Legato
by Hazel Liebovsky
Summary: Set seven years after the anime. Legato means linked doesn't it? In order to save her shattered relationship with Nagisa, Shizuma accepts to work as permanent conductor in an orchestra. There, she will find the real meaning of the word legato.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay guys, so hi first of all (if there's any passing by). Before you start reading I would like to ask you two things, one: read ****SLOWLY**** and I really mean it. Because a) it will help you to appreciate the story a little more and b) give me some extra time to write**.

**Two: if there's any of you that is part of an orchestra please contact me by PM I'd like that, because even if I made some research some of my questions are still unanswered.**

**Oh! And one last thing, I moved Astrae in England instead of Japan. It doesn't change anything to the story though. It's just because I'm not familiar with Japan's culture. The names and all are still the same so don't worry!**

**I don't own Strawberry Panic. Only the plot.**

**Enough blabbing now, see you at the end of the chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Legato**

**by Hazel Liebovsky**

* * *

Chapitre Un

_Again._

_Watch the balance. _

_Yes...bassoons...slow down...like that...yes that's it..._

Her smooth movements were matching the strings, eyes closed, the baton between her thumb and index was engaged in a languorous dance which she was leading. Her body was still. Only her arms were moving. She was not reading the partition, she was not gesticulating nor exaggerating her movements like other conductors, yet the musicians understood her perfectly. The only thing that betrayed her calm façade was the light frown on her brow that made an appearance from time to time. And right now her forehead was smooth meaning everything was going well. The strings played louder, followed by the woodwinds and percussion. The final was close...really close...

_Yes...this is it! Almost...the perfec...NO!_

"Stop." Her voice was husky, loud enough to be heard, yet quiet enough so it would not be considered shouting. Her eyes were still closed.

The musicians came out of their trance looking at each other, their faces showing surprise. They looked at the figure standing in front of them. A smile was playing on her lips, her eyes shut, just like always. The temperature increased abnormally among people at the sight of that smile.

_Mmhm let's see...oboes...yes oboes._

Amber eyes finally came out of their hiding place.

And...silence.

She scanned the place with that mysterious gaze, mesmerizing everyone when those eyes fell on them. Her amber eyes continued looking at the oboe section, still searching among the musicians' heads. The smile never failed.

_Ah, there it is...or rather there she is._

"Oboe number two?" She said smoothly.

"Y-yes?" A high pitched voice answered.

"Why did you stop playing before the final?" Came the seductive notes.

Everybody's eyes widened. How did she notice? No one ever noticed. No one is able to notice, right?

The girl blushed. Voice trembling, she replied, "I-I made a wrong note and lost the flow... a-and I thought stopping would be the be-best thing to do...as I did not want to mess up everything."

_How cute_. Her smile brightened. "See, I do not care about wrong notes now, this phase is especially made for you to prepare the concert, which means do as many as wrong notes as you want, provided they are not done during the concert. It is called practice for a reason, isn't it?"

"Y-yes, Miss."

"So do not stop playing..._ever._" She emphasized the last word and gave another tempting smile to the oboe player. The brown-haired girl nodded and blushed again.

_Yes, very cute indeed._

Smiling, she lifted her head to look at the entire orchestra. "Let's start again from the top."

After one last glance to the oboe's player she lifted her arms slowly and the music started again.

But that glance was not innocent. Oh, it was not. Because Shizuma Hanazono was everything but innocent. That look meant something, something the female musician understood quickly. It was not the first time seeing it, but it was the first time that look was directed toward her. And it meant four simple words: _You...Me...Bed...Tonight._

-0-

A week later, Shizuma was enjoying a cup of tea in the hall of her hotel.

"_...and yesterday, The Bolchoi Theatre touched the stars then slowly came down as the national orchestra of the said theatre delivered a stunning performance. Its interpretation of The Force of Destiny of Verdi was simply magnificent. As for that, the credit goes to the twenty-five-year-old guest conductor Shizuma Hanazono. She gave back to the Bolchoi its spurs when it became the shadow of itself." _The blonde girl finished translating the newspaper's article in a thick Russian accent. "That music critic is literally eating from your hand. You are amazing." She added

"_Spassiba, _Ekaterina," Shizuma smiled to the translator that had been following her like a shadow for the past two months.

"_Nié za chto_. So you have finally learned some words? I'm glad," Ekaterina returned the smile.

"Heh, not really I must admit." She took a sip of her tea, melting in its warmth. "The usual things, like, you know...yes, no, thank you. Oh! And curses! Do you guys ever say a sentence without cursing?" She asked to the girl sitting on a chair, in front of her.

"It's already a miracle that none of your musicians got drunk before the concert. Removing the cursing would mean giving up part of us!" Ekaterina laughed. "You're asking too much here."

Shizuma joined the laughter. "I guess you're right then." She took the piece of chocolate she had been ogling at for the past three minutes.

The blonde girl smiled warmly. _Just like a child_, she thought looking at the woman's gesture.

"So what are you planning to do now? Any project?"

Shizuma seemed to think, slowly chewing the chocolate.

"I guess...maybe I will come back where I belong, Nagisa must be missing me." The thought of a certain red head sent chills to her spine. In a bad way. _I wonder how I will find the house when I am back...that is if there is still a house. _She remembered the last time her soon-to-be-designer partner 'redecorated' the exterior of their house. the little cubs all over her beloved garden, literally violating it. To her defense, Nagisa had said it was _avant-gardiste _Shizuma still had nightmares about cubs all over her body time on time.

"Yes I guess I will go back home." She finally said.

-0-

The flight to London went well; most of it was spent sleeping, but Shizuma did not forget to give one of her seductive smiles to the blushing stewardess who took great care of her client. She decided to take a taxi, buying a fruit pie for Nagisa and an umpteenth chocolate bar for herself before heading home.

Shizuma stood before her front door, relieved to see that it was still a front door. _She must be home, it is seven past five_. She took a long breath before turning the knob.

"I am ho-" _Ouch, my retinas! _She shut her eyes tight then opened them again. "Oh my..." She blinked a few more times, trying to get used to the aggressive color in front of her.

"Honey!" Nagisa's voice echoed from the kitchen. "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

Shizuma cringed. She always hated love nicknames, and she would still hate them until the day of her death. It was so sappy! She just could not understand why people called by nicknames the persons they dared to see as 'the loved ones'. It was just ridiculous, wasn't it?

She stood still, admiring Nagisa's handiwork...crying within herself for her former wallpaper.

"Hey," Nagisa said smiling at the older woman before her. She wrapped her arms around her neck, "I missed you."

Shizuma gave her a plastered smile and a quick peck on the lips "I'm home" she finally said.

Nagisa hugged her tightly and they stayed like that for a long time before the older woman dared to ask what was bothering her since her arrival.

"Nagisa?"

"Mmh?"

"What is this?" She pointed the walls with her chin.

"Oh! You like it? It is great isn't it? I thought I would change the hall's wallpaper. It gives more light, no? All flashy like that."

"Well it's...pink." It was a simple statement.

"Yes! It matches the ceiling! Look up!"

When she did as told, Shizuma's eyes widened. She never argued with Nagisa about her design whims. Actually, she was really happy that her partner would develop her artistic side. That was until she found out the red head lacked of something important, something essential...something called taste.

She bit her tongue. _Shh. Do not say a word. Calm down...easy, easy...calm down...yes like that. _And released a breath.

"Whatever," was all she said before going to the kitchen, "I'm going to cook dinner." She added.

Nagisa stayed in the same spot for a few seconds, then followed Shizuma after one last glance at the purple ceiling, which was as flashy as the walls.

"How was your trip?" The girl asked sitting on a stool in front of the worktop where Shizuma was mixing raw minced meat with spices.

"It was...really interesting." Shizuma said looking at her. At that precise moment, she was thinking of a certain flutist, who was unfortunately not as skilled with her tongue as she was with her instrument. _Whatever. We can't have it both ways, can we?_

She smiled. "Yes, really interesting. Russians will never stop to amaze me."

After washing her hands, she chose a knife and turned around to the worktop again. She began to slice tomatoes.

"How about you? How was school?" Nagisa had to do one more year before getting her master degree in Interior Design. Shizuma wondered how for God's sake they did not kick her out after four years already. She always has been the one to say that there was no accounting in taste but this poor girl seemed to be the exception to the rule.

"They are preparing us for the midterms for now, everybody is stressing out. Oh and Tamao and I went shopping tod—you should careful with that Shizuma." Nagisa pointed the knife that had nearly cut her partner's index nail.

Shizuma looked up at the girl in front of her, slowing the pace of her slicing but not stopping it. "Do you have so little faith in me, my dear?" She smiled wickedly at the blush her question elected.

"N-no it isn't that… I-I mean you always take care of your hands. I would really feel bad if you happened to wound them, you know." Nagisa explained.

Shizuma put the knife on the worktop and looked at her hands. Her partner was right. She had always taken great care of them, if the creams, balms and other cosmetic products in their bathroom were any indication. As a woman first of all, but especially as a pianist and a conductor, she had to. Her hands were the first thing the musicians would focus on during a concert. That was the reason why she spent loads of money in salons to keep them in top condition. Money did not matter. They were her working tools after all, were they not? She smiled at the thought.

Yes, they were her working tools, but for more..._leisurely_ activities, they became the instruments of miracles

She looked at Nagisa and felt a pang of desire passing through her. Strange. How long has it been since she felt that way? A year? Maybe two? No, more than that. Of course it was not comparable to how she felt in the first months of their relationship. Passion had run through her veins, and this incredibly powerful force that rushed in, pushed her and tore her apart. Yes that was it. Passion.

Not love.

It has never been love. Alas, before she could realize it she was already walking in the crowded church of Astrea Hill and shouting her eternal infatuation to the girl in front of her. A pity really. It was fine the way it was now. Not that she didn't care about Nagisa. She did care a lot about her, at least more than any of her former 'girlfriends'. But she was not in love, or if that happened to be love, then it was way too boring to her taste. She preferred passion. Yes passion was good, passion was great but there was a problem. Passion was ephemeral. Passion was meant to die.

Then why hasn't she left her yet?

_Ouch! Migraine, migraine! Stop thinking! _

"What are you cooking?" Nagisa asked, seemingly fascinated by Shizuma's hands dexterity with the knife. _If only she could play with my body instead of that knife… _she blushed wildly at her own thoughts.

Shizuma caught it. She had always found blushes cute. At first. It was no longer cute after being involved with someone for seven years and that person risks death by cranial explosion caused by excess blood each time she saw you walking in underwear. Or taking a shower. Or thinking about something kinky. It was...childish. Yes, that was the word. Nagisa was childish. And her childlike behavior was starting to get on her nerves. But Shizuma did was she's always done when it concerned Nagisa. That is: she kept her mouth shut and prayed she would change as soon as possible. But her prayers did not seem to reach whatever being was up there watching them.

_Ow, migraine! Stop the thinking I'm telling you!_

"Pasta Bolognese," she said, faking Italian accent.

Nagisa's eyes lit up. She smiled widely. "I love that plate!"

"I know." The older girl gave her a small smile.

-0-

The following day, Shizuma was quite surprised to see that she was in her bed. With Nagisa. What happened yesterday? Ah, yes, she came back from her trip, a very good trip, but God, that fast? Unfair. Actually she fell like a stone on her bed last night, and thus the woman did not register her surroundings.

Now, here she was, emerging slowly from her sleep.

"I almost forgot!" Nagisa said while chewing her toast. "They called again."

"They?" Shizuma paused with a grape halfway to her mouth. Then it hit her. "Oh, the orchestra you meant. Same thing as always?"

"They said they really would like to have a meeting with you, if you'd give them five minutes of your time."

"Yes, same thing as always," she repeated, eating her grape this time.

A comfortable silence settled and they returned to their former tasks. Shizuma took a piece of toast and spread marmalade on it. Only toast and marmalade. That was her meal, even if their table was full of delicious breakfast dishes. Breakfast dishes were normally fatty anyway. Not that she cared, but she had never been a hearty eater. She liked good cuisine, but morning was morning and hers were always accompanied by toast, marmalade and tea.

"Why wouldn't you give it a try?" Nagisa asked.

"Because I am fine with the way it is now." She said simply, eyes focused on her toast.

"But what if I am not fine with it?"

"Nagisa..." Shizuma glanced at her partner, irritation almost palpable in her tone. "We already talked about that."

"Yes, I know, but it's hard when you just disappear like that for months. I'm all alone here and it's hard, you know?" Nagisa said, almost pleading.

"Alone? Nagisa, everybody is here!" She tried to keep her voice even, but her eyes betrayed her annoyance. She was not a morning person. She never had been. A few people knew about it and Nagisa was one of them. So why was she behaving like that so early?

"_You_, Shizuma, are not here."

"As for that matter I am working Nagisa, and it means I must go."

"No you must not. You want to go. Why do you always do that? Why Shizuma? Do I disgust you this much that you need to get away from the country as soon as you can?" Nagisa was ready to cry. Tears in the starting blocks, ready to fall at any signal.

Oh no. No, no, no, she did not want to get on this path so early in the day. It was extremely slippery and she would have to choose her words carefully. But again it was morning. Who was careful in the morning?

"This has _nothing_ to do with you. It is my own choice Nagisa, my own." Her hands clenched on the toast.

And it was the truth. Her decision to refuse to be hired as permanent conductor in England or elsewhere had not been motivated by her tendency to avoid Nagisa. She just did not want to be _chained, _um, artistically speaking somewhere. She needed her freedom. And the fact that she would often...always 'fornicate' with some random musicians all over the world was only a side effect, or so she liked to think. _I can stop when I want,_ she thought. _Yes I can...I just...don't want to. _

Oops...wrong answer.

Tears were falling from the red head's eyes directly in her cup of tea. Shizuma reached to the girl's chin but Nagisa slapped it away.

"Nagisa..."

Sobs answered her. "I-I...Shizuma if, if..." She took a long shaking breath to calm herself down. "If you..." Another breath. "Shizuma, do it for me I beg you"

_Oh no. Not the begging!_ Shizuma was trying to think as quickly as she could, but it was impossible with the sight of the girl in front of her. She did not like people crying. Weird isn't it? She was the main reason people cried most of the time.

"If...you love me Shizuma, give it a try, just a try. I am not asking much, am I? Nagisa was still sobbing, louder this time.

Oh-oh the sensitive sting, well done Nagisa! Shizuma had a heart, as hard as it was to believe she did have one.

"I..." The words did not want to come out, stuck in her throat. _Tell her no! Tell her! Damn Shizuma tell her!_

"Fine," she whispered soundlessly. _Damn you! You're stupid! You are stuck here now! _

"Fine," she repeated louder this time. And those sobs again. "Nagisa I said it was fine stop crying now…please." She was pleading with her now.

It took a good three minutes before Nagisa regained her composure. Three minutes during which Shizuma was mentally hanging herself with her own hair.

"R-r...really Shizuma? The girl's voice was still curbed with tears but it was already more joyful.

"Yes, really." She said, knowing she had just made a big mistake. "I will call them back...give me two days, just two days and I will phone and tell them I would be willing to wor—"

She could not finish her sentence as Nagisa literally threw herself on her, across the table covering her face with moist kisses. And thus they both fell on the floor. Ouch.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I lov—" Shizuma kissed her deeply. Mostly to make her shut her mouth up. But of course, she would keep this little detail for herself.

While Nagisa was too busy responding to the kiss and make things go further, Shizuma was - on the other hand - thinking about what she had just agreed to do.

_I...am stuck here. _She thought_. Damn you Nagisa...damn you._ And to prove her point she bit the lower lip of the girl atop of her._ Damn you!_ The message was misunderstood by the complainant who just moaned deepening the kiss even more.

_Does she want to stifle me or what?_ The younger woman was already tugging on her dressing gown, but Shizuma was a hell of a knot maker, thus the poor girl was having some issues with those tied into the gown. Talk about a mood killer.

"Nagisa...stop." She managed to say once her lips were free from their cage. "Nagisa, please…" she repeated.

A groan was all she received and the assault on her gown continued, accompanied by one on her throat. Nagisa, throughout their years of involvement had proven to be someone very... sexual, more than Shizuma expected. It had always amazed her...and frightened her at the same time, for as the red head had not conveyed that image at all and Shizuma knew that she was the reason for this discovery.

_I have created a monster _she thought. Well, not exactly a monster actually, more an extension of herself. Extension that was getting dangerously close to her underwear right now...

"S-stop" Shizuma said again. Her mouth was saying something but her body was saying the exact opposite. So she did what she's always done in this kind of situation.

Surrender.

And turn in auto-pilot.

She kissed back when Nagisa's head came up. It was mechanical but neither of them did really care about it, as one was again too busy untying that damned knot to think and the other, while her body was slowly giving in, allowed her mind to wander a little bit.

_What am I going to do? _It was not that she completely disliked the idea of staying home; she could see Miyuki more often. That was good. No she did not dislike the idea of being here. She just did not like the idea of her being around Nagisa _more often. _She liked the girl, for sure she liked her, but at small doses only. She could stand her, her behavior and even her yellow-eyes-killer underwear but only once in a while. Working as permanent conductor would mean having the young woman around...all day.

Shizuma shivered when Nagisa's fingers _finally_ got to their destination. _Ugh_, _cold, _she thought. Well it was autumn after all. The girl atop of her assaulted her throat again, leaving a mark this time. _Ouch._ Love bites. They hurt. Why do people call them love bites anyway? Do you really hurt the person you are supposed to love?

Shizuma shivered again...from pleasure this time. But her mind was still wandering around. _How am I supposed to get out of this now? _She would have to call the London's orchestra in two days. Only two days._ I am screwed._ If only she had known back in Russia, that it was her last footloose trip she would have had more _fun_. After all, Ekaterina was kind of hot wasn't she?

A moan this time, a sensitive spot had just been touched. Another kiss, Nagisa was trying to give all the fever she had in her body through this one. It did work for a short time. Shizuma came out of her dozing and responded feverishly to the kiss, but soon enough her mind decided to run away again.

There was that oboe's player too, she had spent a really, _really_ good night with her. What was her name already, hm? Whatever, it did not matter. Oh, and the flutist! Don't forget the flutist! That girl could do things with her tongue that no one would understand. Hell, if only she had known! If only! She could have even paid for a lap dance! A pity really.

Heat increased as Nagisa's fingers _tried_ to play some magic tricks her partner had taught her. True, Shizuma's body was getting hot. Her mind was still cold though. She was...not here.

_How about a spa?_ Yes a spa would be good. A complete care for example, all day. Yes, yes that would allow her to relax a little bit and think calmly about how her life has just turned from perfect to Hell in a damned morning. Yes, a spa definitively, she would have to take an appointment for tomorrow. But...who would she go with? Nagisa? No, no way, that was completely out of the question. Miyuki? Probably busy with her husband. Then...alone? Yes, alone she would not have to talk to anyone like that. Yes, alone, definitely.

Shizuma let her body relax completely at this moment. _Yes...a spa tomorrow...with me and myself...sounds nice. _And then, she convulsed beneath Nagisa.

God... that was so... tasteless. What was known as an explosion, an endless firework, was now a lone flame dancing, trying to warm the North Pole itself. At least, she tried, huh?

"_Jouissance sans plaisir...n'est que ruine de l'âme"_ Shizuma muttered, laughing within herself. When had she become such a thinker? Especially at a moment like this. Ah yes, the answer was simple: Nagisa. The said girl was still breathing heavily in the crook of Shizuma's throat trying to recover from her effort, but she did catch that her partner whispered something.

"What did you say?" She lifted her head from her spot.

"Nothing," the other responded.

"You did Shizuma." Nagisa looked at her,

"I did not," her partner glanced back. Irritation was making a grand entrance again in her eyes.

"You spoke French, I heard you speaking French." It was a simple statement that let no room for any lie. Haha, screwed, Hanazono.

_Shit. _Was the only thing she could think at the moment. It was morning, damn it! Why was she constrained to get through that now?

"Fine, you want to know?" Her voice was cold, the tone surprising the girl shivering atop her.

"You want to know?" She repeated louder this time. And oddly enough, Nagisa was not so sure that she wanted to know. Still, she went on. Damn curiosity.

"Y-yes."

"I said," Shizuma began, looking directly at the other woman, her face unreadable, "Getting off without pleasure, is the ruin of the soul." Nagisa's expression completely dropped. _Pang! Pang! Great Shizuma, you just won the cup of the best mood killers! Just great..._

Sobs. Damn sobs. She hated sobs. She hated Nagisa's sobs. She hated the fact that they still touched her. She hated the fact that she was mean toward someone she knew she had considered spending her life with, a long...long time ago. She hated to be like that toward Nagisa. Still she...could not help it anymore. She cared about her, but she was angry as well. She was angry with herself because they were so young and different back then, and she didn't realize it soon enough to stop everything. They were settled now and it was too late. She could not do anything about that.

In fact there was something to do about that. But Shizuma Hanazono was just too chicken to do it.

"I'm...I'm sorry Nagisa," she said to the crying girl who buried her head in her crook again.

"Forgive me, I am just tired. I guess this trip has gotten the best of me, I...forgive me, hey look at me, Nagisa." She took the girl's chin between her index and thumb glancing directly in those clear orbs filled by tears. She had known at this time that she had really wounded her partner. Nagisa was unable to lie, unlike herself, and neither could her eyes.

Shizuma did what she has always done in moment like this. She kissed Nagisa... _forgive me_ _please_ was what her lips were saying.

And Nagisa always did.

-0-

The door opened and she was greeted by two strong arms wrapping around her.

"Hey, long time no see!" A masculine voice cheered.

"Yes, yes I know I have be— Dennis, I would really like it if you put me down," Shizuma laughed.

"Of course, of course! Sorry, I got carried away, but I haven't seen you for ages Shizuma!" Dennis was trying to look wounded. He only earned another laugh.

"It has only been two months," she was still smiling.

"Two months during which you did not phone Miyuki or me. I can understand for me, but she is you best friend isn't she?" It was rhetorical.

"I know and I'm sorry. I just got quite busy with the Bolchoi, you know."

"Busy with the Bolchoi, or busy with the female musicians _of _the Bolchoi?" He winked at her surprised look. So he knew. Great. Just great. And she could not even argue with Miyuki about that, he was her husband after all.

"Come in, it's freezing out there." He locked the door after Shizuma.

Was it an illusion or was he taller each time she saw him? Not that she cared; women loved tall men didn't they? And he was quite good looking with those dark eyes matching his hair. She sat on a sofa when they reached the living room. Dennis was already heading to the kitchen.

"Where is Miyuki?" She asked.

"Just here, Shizuma," a feminine voice answered while coming downstairs.

The woman rose from her sit and hugged Miyuki tight.

"Would you please let my wife breathe?" Dennis was coming back with tea and some cakes. He put them down on the coffee table and sat on the sofa that was just in front of Shizuma's previous place.

"She is not complaining, Dennis." The man caught the sparkle of amusement in the woman's tone and he decided to play along.

"Maybe _because_ she is unable to breathe at the moment?" Again the question was rhetorical but playful.

"Stop that, you two." Miyuki pulled back from the hug and sat by Dennis' side. Shizuma caught the unusual glint that passed through Miyuki's eyes when she looked at the man. Well, not so unusual as it has been here for a while now.

Miyuki still remembered their wedding night together. Or rather the first night she spent crying on his shoulder. They had barely talked to each other during the day and she did not know what to expect so that night in their hotel room she looked at him, her eyes _daring _the man to touch her, _daring_ him to make a move, defiant, but, oh so nervous and so afraid. And he, he was so huge and strong! He would break her, he would force her, toss her on the bed for sure! Look at those hands!

That night he stopped in front of her, and leaned in. Miyuki closed her eyes thinking that maybe, oh maybe if she shut them tight, she would disappear, go away or wake up from that horrible nightmare. She waited for a kiss that never came, instead of it she felt a hot breath near her ear that made her shiver and eight little words that broke her. _You do not have to force yourself anymore... _That is what he said, and what made her burst into tears releasing years and years of pressure into an only night.

After this, little by little, Dennis became an acquaintance at first, then a friend and three years ago...a lover. And Shizuma was always amazed to see this understanding but modest tenderness between them. Even if they did not fall in love immediately, she felt that Miyuki for the first time in her life, was at peace. Thanks to him, she opened up a little more and Shizuma would be eternally thankful to Dennis because of that.

She had agreed with herself a long time ago, that she envied them, for as she had never felt that way with Nagisa, whose own tenderness was exacerbated to the extreme and hers, on the contrary as sharp as a knife. Maybe she had felt it with Kaori, but Kaori was dead now, she did not want to stir the past. Shizuma felt sad suddenly.

"...as your trip?" The woman asked, now discreetly squeezing Dennis' hand.

"Excuse me?" Shizuma came out of her reverie, looking at a piece of chocolate which was begging to be eaten by her and her alone.

"How was Russia?" Miyuki repeated.

"Oh…" she conceded to the chocolate's wish while thinking, a glint of playfulness making an appearance in her amber eyes. In her mind, the flutist popped up again. With a huge smile she added: "Amazing, absolutely amaz—"

"Shizuma, I was talking about Russia, not Russian women." The voice was even.

"Oh..." the other woman's enthusiasm flattened immediately and she seemed to think again, "Cold, it was cold."

Dennis burst in laughter soon joined by Shizuma. Miyuki glared at both of them killing the mood instantly. Then she laid her look on the woman, who suddenly felt the urge to put her arms in front of her in defense.

"You asked me!" She said, waving her arms.

The other woman sighed. Sure she had told the truth when, back in Astrae Shizuma interrupted the Etoile election to steal Nagisa, _she was back again. _Miyuki did not know at this time how right she was.

"Whatever," was her only response.

* * *

"No." The woman's voice was calm, but her tone conveyed something, something telling her interlocutor that her decision was a final.

"Come on! Please just this time, this one time! I swear I will take it next time!" Still, the said interlocutor was stubborn, as stubborn as the woman sitting on the chair, nonchalantly turning the pages of a random magazine.

"Did you know Lady Gaga had a penis? Look it's written here," she laughed before adding, "As if we did not kn—"

"Isis!"

At the call of her name the female lifted her head of the magazine, looking directly at the other girl in the room.

"What?"

"You know little girl, you are unfair." The black - blonde last week - haired woman said. Now wondering if she could get what she wanted with this girl or not.

"You know what is more unfair than me?" Isis shot back. "Besides having a much, _much _younger person calling me little girl?" She asked. "It's taking care of King Kong over there," Isis pointed through the door. "Not two, but three times in a row."

She returned to her reading, seemingly interested by an article. "Now get lost before I lose control," she added.

The other girl in the room seemed to think. It never helped her to think. But she always tried anyway. Maybe if she could somehow explain the situation for the umpteenth time and add some more drama ...she gave a shot, who knows?

"Look, the client I have since this morning is...ehm very alluring, and we have been talking well since she came here. So please I'm begging you, I'm asking the nice, the ever gentle, the wonderfully great woman that you are, not to break this beautiful emerging love story that I am having with my customer." Her eyes lit up and she made a puppy face.

"No." Same answer, same posture, Isis did not even give a glance to the woman.

An irritated sigh and again the same question after. "Why?"

Again she looked up at this other person, now closing the magazine.

"Ann," Yeah because all her answers to the question 'why' began with the other woman's name, "You are not attracted to women first of all. And most importantly, I don't give a damn about your _fabulous _stillborn love story." Isis removed her glasses, and the younger woman felt strangely uncomfortable under those striking eyes, she looked away. "And for the last time, I am not taking it again. I'm not paid enough for humanitarian missions like this. Get it?"

Said humanitarian cause was in fact, a man who came once a month to be taken care of. Massaged to be more precise. What bothered the employees was that, they did not actually touch the flesh, but rather lose their hands in an endless black forest. That was the reason why a schedule had been made and the employees relayed each other.

When no response came, she returned to her magazine, using her right hand to remove a strand of hair that was blocking her view. Ann seemed to think again. It never helped her, but she always tried.

"How about a Rochambeau?" Ann's outburst made the sitting woman arch a brow when she glanced up for the third time.

"A...Rochambeau? Isis asked to make sure she heard well.

"Yeah a Rochambeau! You know, scissors stone and pap—"

"I know what a Rochambeau is, stupid brat," she cut. "What does the winner get?" Folding her legs she gave a mysterious smile, which consisted in twitching up the corner of her lips without showing her teeth. Killer smile.

Ann grinned, _I won!_ She sang in her head, "The winner takes the customer"

"Not enough."

"But she's deadly! I mean you need to see her first before telling _she_ is not enough!"

"Not enough," Isis repeated, the smile not leaving her face.

Ann took two minutes to think again, then released a defeated breath. "Fine, the loser takes Kong until the end of winter." _I'm screwed if I lose, _she thought, _but...I won't lose...right? _

Isis' face lit up and she grinned. "I knew we could make a great deal together."

-0-

Shizuma was enjoying her day, sitting in a comfortable armchair, hands stretched on a little table in front of her, mouth closed, eyes closed, and especially mind closed. Problems? Vanished. She was just escaping from the reality. Escaping from...her partner, though, not in a stranger's arms this time. There was some progress.

The door opened. Shizuma smiled. She had been talking with the employee since the time she came to the beauty salon, Ann wasn't it? Yes it was Ann, very cute, maybe a little too young. The girl had told her she was nineteen. Yes definitely too young. If she wanted a child she had Nagisa anyway. Though, Ann made a very good eye-candy she would give her that. She had agreed to take a coffee with her when her work is finished, a leopard cannot change its spots after all.

"How about this little café not far from here. I've heard they make a wonderful red tea." Shizuma said, not bothering to open her eyes.

"Fine, I will tell her when she is done." Obviously not Ann's voice. Deeper. Sexy. Definitely seductive.

The door closed and Shizuma allowed her eyes to open. Eagerly wanting to know to whom that voice belonged. She was disappointed. All she could see was the woman's back. She decided to check her out nevertheless.

Tall. Not as tall as her but tall nevertheless. Plus one. Black hair. No…brown, dark brown but still brown, in a sexy-messy bund held by a...a brush? Yes it's a brush. Plus two, that girl was creative! Oh, her shoulders are not skinny, nor manly. Good, plus three. The back now. Perfect shape, oh yes that was great!

Shizuma loved backs. She could spend hours on backs, kissing her way from the neck, following the spine, light kisses on each vertebra, grazing her nails and teeth smoothly on scapulae. She worshipped it literally. Finally darted her eyes down in another _interesting_ place...

Damn, she turned around.

_Oh my God_. They thought simultaneously.

While Shizuma was again checking the woman out thinking that she was a strikingly gorgeous thing, the other was more startled with...her hair. _She's got gray hair…? She's got fucking gray hair! Where does she come from? Tchernobyl? _They stared at each other a bit more, not in the eyes though, too busy with their own thoughts to be careful. Finally Isis decided to move, she took the chair and sat before Shizuma's hands, putting her products and some chocolate on a little table just near.

Shizuma stared at her, happily enjoying the view, but she kept wondering about the former girl. Not that she would complain, this one was more _mature_ that was for sure.

"Where is Ann, if I may ask?" She enquired smiling, her voice as sweet as music.

The woman who was applying a random cream on Shizuma's hand lightly massaging them slowed her motions, "I am sorry but she had to take care of another customer," the employee looked at the door, remembering Ann's face when she did not win. She chuckled in her within herself, that face was priceless really. "But I can call her if you want me to," the voice added. Though Isis' mind was more like that : _please, say no...I'm begging you, say no, please! _

After five unbearable seconds, she finally got an answer. "It is fine," Shizuma smiled again. "I guess she must like that customer more than me," she said in a fake pouting tone.

And for the first time since she got there, Isis looked at Shizuma in the eyes and gratified her with a real, true smile. It was her first of the day, not the commercial one she kept for the customers. After all, she had just saved her from Kong. She deserved it. She said nothing and returned to her task, her glance focusing only on the woman's hands.

And this, Shizuma Hanazono found it extremely irritating. It was the first time someone did not blush or faint after making eye contact. Plus she did not have the time to fully appreciate the view; she just caught a glint of clear blue in the other woman's eyes before she lowered her head again. She released a small sigh and ran her eyes over the room.

Finally, her gaze landed on the chocolate on the little table, and her eyes lit up. She looked back and forth between the woman and the chocolate. Said woman who did not seem to notice, too busy brushing the hands in front of her. Oh the torture!

"You want it," the deep, sexy voice said. It was not a question, and Isis did not even bother to look at her, nor stop what she was doing.

To her surprise and for the first time since a long time ago, Shizuma blushed. From shame. She had just been caught longing at chocolate, her worst addiction besides sex, and by a stranger! No, no, no, she could not let that happen.

"No I don't." She lied. She was quite good at lying. Or pretending should be the best word, yes Shizuma Hanazono pretended like no one. Her relationship with Nagisa was a good example.

"You do." Again it was not a question.

"I don't"

"You do."

"I don't."

Isis lifted her head again, staring at Shizuma who finally could check the color of her eyes. _Blue..._she thought, _and...is that green? Yes, light green almost yellow strands around the pupils...beautiful._ What she did not catch is the slight glint of annoyance passing by those yellow blue eyes.

The manicurist stopped what she was doing abruptly, took a towel and dried her hands after washing them. Then, she opened the chocolate and took a piece.

"Open up."

"Pardon?" Surprise was painted on Shizuma's face.

"Open your mouth," Isis waved the chocolate in front of her. "You want it. Yes or no?"

The woman was taken aback, but an idea popped up in her mind. If she could not made this manicurist blush earlier, a great occasion has just presented itself to her.

Very slowly, seductively, she did as told, being careful to show a glimpse of white teeth and 'accidentally' pass the tip of her tongue, ever so slowly in the inside of her lower lip. That was a killer trick a random French woman had played on her one day and she had never, ever wished so much to be reincarnated as a piece of chocolate in her life than at this precise time. This woman would surrender, for sure. It always worked. It never failed.

…Until today.

To her utter astonishment, the manicurist gave her the piece of chocolate, as impassive as a stone, washed her hands again and returned to her task. As if nothing happened.

God.

That woman was not human. No she was not. It was impossible to resist to that trick...Hell, even a granny would have felt something!

_Asexual?_

Shizuma looked at her again.

_No. Married. Damn._

She looked at the wedding ring, wishing she could break it with the power of her eyes alone. That was too bad! She had moral principles: never with a married woman, except of course if the said woman came to her. She was not that crazy to refuse an offer.

"What instrument do you play?" The voice drew Shizuma from her thoughts.

"Excuse me?"

"You are a musician. I can see it. What instrument do you play?" Isis repeated, now filing her customer's nails.

"Oh..." _Interesting_ she thought. So she can recognize a musician from a simple office worker? Another idea came in her mind at this moment. "Guess..." she said huskily.

The other woman lifted her glance and Shizuma caught it. The sparkle of amusement. She was definitely playing along with her.

"Fine." Isis put the file on the little table and allowed her fingers to touch Shizuma's hands, hovering over them, ghost caresses. All that without leaving Shizuma's stare. Both of them daring the other to look away.

She passed her fingers on the tip of Shizuma's, between the nail and the skin and felt the other shiver at the contact. _So she still feels something here. Not the strings or guitar_. _One._ Then she took her right hand in her left, massaging slightly the back of it and before her wrist. Shaking it slightly._ Flexible. Like chewing-gum. Two. _Finally she did exactly the same thing with the woman's thumbs. _Strong and powerful. For the balance. Three. _She looked at Shizuma. _Sitting straight on the chair's back. Four. Got it._ She grinned.

"Pianist."

Shizuma's eyes widened. Not from the answer, but the sensations she had just experienced. That girl definitely knew how to use her hands. _Magic Hands, _she thought, _all over my body...it would be so good. _

"That is it," she smiled. "You're quite good at guessing."

"Thank you." Isis smiled back.

"You are welcome."

A comfortable silence settled between them, Isis now polishing her customer's nails gently, while the said customer, eyes closed was happily enjoying her day. Opening them abruptly when she realized she did not know the manicurist's name or her age. It did not even cross her mind before.

"My name is Shizuma," she said smiling. "Shizuma Hanazono."

"Japanese?" Isis quirked her brow, lifting her head again.

"Indeed, it is.", she said. "But I was born here, and thus am not familiar with the language. Though I have played at the Tokyo Opera City once, or maybe twice."

"Oh, I see." The woman smiled again and Shizuma noticed the little dimple on her right cheek.

_How cute... _

She kept staring, dazzled by Isis' efficiency and sweetness while working. Completely focused, as if nothing else was around her, nothing else mattered. Nothing else deserved to be looked at. _Is she tempting me?_ She shook her head. She would have to stop that. She was here now. And Nagisa was here too. Better be discreet, or do nothing at all. Her face darkened when she remembered what she had agreed to do.

The manicurist quickly finished her work, leaving her customer's nails perfect.

"I am done." She said, looking up at the customer.

Shizuma came out of her dozing, looking at her newly manicured nails. She smiled. "Thank you. You have done a great job," and she meant it. She knew how to take care of her hands and she knew when it was done well.

All she earned from that comment was a gentle smile. _Not even a shadow of blush_, she thought, defeated. Isis rose from her seat, taking her utensils, packing them in the closet, again washing her hands and drying them.

"I will call Ann, she should be done by now as well. Goodbye Miss Hanazono." She waved her hand to the customer and left her.

Shizuma released a happy sigh, closing her eyes again. It was a good day so far, and she just had the most pleasant conversation with Miss...Miss...Miss what? She opened her eyes again. S_he did not tell me her name!_ She thought furrowing her brows. Indeed, the manicurist did not tell her name, and _she_ made Shizuma speak about herself. Something she never did with strangers, or even acquaintances. And the trick with the chocolate did not work on her! She burst in laughter.

That woman was not human. Definitely. Not. Human.

"Happy now?" Ann asked.

"I guess."

"I guess? Are you kidding me? You just spent forty-five minutes with Aphrodite herself and all you can say is 'I guess'?" She was nearly shouting. "Are you human?"

Isis thought about that, she smiled a bit. "I guess."

"God, you are hopeless little girl, you know that?"

"Look, kiddo," she always loved Ann's reaction when she called her kiddo. The younger woman made a face. "I'm not into women with funky hair color, I leave it to you. Now you should go because she has been all alone for..." Isis looked at her watch. "…Almost five minutes."

Ann did not wait for her to say it a second time, after washing quickly her hands from the massage oil, Kong's scent and hairs, she literally ran to the room where her beloved customer was patiently waiting for her to come back. Or so she liked to think.

* * *

Shizuma was lost. Like, lost. She has never gotten lost before, even in Astrae's forest, even if everybody knows that nothing looks more like a tree than another tree. But she never got lost there.

Here, among the corridors she was lost.

Lost and frustrated. The two days had passed like wind and here she was now, wandering in the halls...stairs...and halls...oh, and corridors.

"May I help you?" asked a man behind her.

She turned around, plastering a dazzling smile on her face. "I would like that, yes. May you please tell me..." scouring in her purse a little, she grabbed a piece of paper. "Where I can find the orchestra manager, it's written room 225, but I cannot seem to find it." She laughed a little bit.

Immediate reaction from the man, eyes widening and stutter. "Y-you...you are Sh-Sh-Shi-"

"Shizuma Hanazono, yes it is my name." Smile still plastered on her features. She waited patiently for the man to regain his spirits. And waited. And waited again. When no reaction came from him, she quirked a brow. "Would you please show me?"

The sound of her husky voice seemed to have an effect on him. He shook his head, stuttering again. "O-of c-course I'd be g-glad to escort you to him!" His outburst surprised her a little, but she did not show it.

"This way," the man pointed a direction, walking a few feet behind. He kept staring at her, _God...she is the personification of elegance..._His glance lowering a little bit, _oh-oh look what we've got here, _he smiled. _How I'd love to squeeze that as—, _his train of thoughts stopped abruptly when he felt a glare on him. Rather cold, the glare. Looking up, narrowed amber eyes met his.

"I think I can find my way from here. Thank you very much," her voice was sweet as always, but full of venom.

"R-right." He gave her an apologetic smile before going.

_Damn men...I hate men..._ turning around, Shizuma kept walking until she finally found the room 225 and knocked.

"Come in," a muffled voice answered.

She opened the door, greeted by a warm smile from the man sitting in the office in front of her.

"Miss Hanazono, I'm so glad you finally agreed to meet us!" His cheerful, paternal tone brought a smile to her face. He reminded her of her father.

"I am sorry I could not do it earlier. My schedule was quite busy," she lied. Well it was not totally a lie, she has been busy. But she did not want to meet him either. Until now.

"Of course, of course. Well you are here now," he rose from his seat and she took the time to examine him a little. He was built and tall as well. Fifty years old maybe? No, less, but his salt and pepper hair did not help much though. He slowly lifted his hand to shake hers. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Philip Edwards I am in charge of the orchestra," he said the warm smile never leaving his face. She smiled back again.

"Shizuma Hanazono, guest conductor...until ten seconds ago."

His eyes widened and he made an 'o' with his mouth. Shizuma laughed and Philip shook his head to gather his thoughts together again.

«You...you accept?" Surprise was all over his face.

"Yes."

"But we have not discussed your contract yet. You know, even like that, we do not have a lot of money and we ha—"

"Money does not matter," she gently cut him, waving her hand. "Do not worry about that. I just want motivated musicians...and good as well, that goes without saying."

"Of course, Miss Hanazono." The man stopped, still thinking about something. Finally he spoke. "But if I may ask, why so suddenly? I mean, we have contacted you a while ago and you never expressed the wish to work with us before," his brows furrowed a little. Yep, totally her father.

"It's because I have never met you in person," she sat on a chair and Phillip mirrored her, sitting on his leather chair. "I've met a lot of orchestra managers before, and there is one thing that linked them all. Something they always had."

"I am sorry...but I do not quite follow you here," he smiled apologetically.

"Arrogance," she said. "They were all arrogant, thinking that because they were in charge of some pompous orchestra with loads of money they could afford the best conductors. Each one without exception asked me to be their permanent conductor. Not because they found me talented. No. Those people would not even be able to distinguish a viola than a violin. They wanted me to get power. Not talent. That is the reason why I have always refused their offers, as good as they were."

"And what makes you think I am different?" He asked merely interested.

"Simple," she pointed her chest, "You did not look at these a single time."

Philip laughed. It was a hearty and communicative laugh and Shizuma found herself smiling again. The image of her father superposed itself on his face and she felt a surge of warmth in her heart. _I miss you...father._

His laugh faded and he took the piece of paper he has been reading before she came. Darting his eyes back and forth on the paper, he finally gave it to her.

"Here's the schedule. The number of representations and studio recordings for the next two years," he explained.

She took the paper and read it quickly. Something caught her attention though. "Why is there a question mark on the studio recording planned for next autumn?"

Philip's face darkened a little. "We are not sure about this one yet."

"What do you mean?" She asked.

He took a breath before answering. "Well…actually, there is a concurrence between other orchestras to know which one will get it."

"For what is it?"

"A film, original soundtracks."

"Which orchestras?"

"Paris and the national orchestra of China."

She winced. Paris. A tough one, it would be hard. But that meant something and she smiled when it hit her.

"The film is an important production, isn't it?" One of her brow arched.

"Quite important indeed," he smiled.

"We will get it." Determination was printed in her voice and a huge grin adorned her face.

He nodded, seemingly lost in his thought again. She waited for him to voice his doubts. "We…do have a problem nevertheless, Miss Hanazono."

"That is?"

"We need a concertmaster. As you can see, there are other question marks on several other dates," he pointed a date in four months with a question mark next to it.

"What happened to the former if I may ask?"

Philip looked at her, the corner of his mouth twitching up while his arms folded on the desk. "She is expecting."

"Oh…I see. And how about the former conductor? Is he the father?"

The man laughed again. "No, no he is not. He just retired. Give way to youth, as he said. Actually the whole orchestra changed two years ago, with young new musicians not experienced yet. He molded them as good as he could and retired just after. They are still a little…green and tough if I may say."

"Oh…I see," she repeated. "Hard to lead?"

"Indeed."

Shizuma decided to change the subject. "I guess…you are planning an audition to recruit the concertmaster, right?"

He nodded.

"How about taking someone from the Royal College? They are experienced." Shizuma's suggestion made him laugh.

"Advertising for your old school aren't you?" He joked went on. "Actually I plan to organize a free audition. Students from school, tend to be…full of themselves when they first start to work." Shizuma's eyes widened and Philip washed her doubts with his hand before speaking again. "I am not talking about you, of course. But I think that someone from outside could be a good idea as well. It would teach to the young brats here how to behave."

"What do you plan?" She had to admit, he had a point. A lot of student from the Royal College, when first getting a job showed arrogance toward other members of the orchestras because of their school. Especially when they had a higher ranking like soloist. Shizuma had seen it herself.

"Organizing it throughout two days," Philip said. "One for students only. And the second, free entrance."

"Don't you think it would be a little crowded? I mean…if they know I will be leading the audition…" she trailed off. It was not cockiness. It was true. During her years as pianist and conductor, Shizuma had acquired a certain reputation in the profession. "We could never find what we are searching for."

"I've already thought about that, your name will not be mentioned, do not worry. They will know who you are only when they will be on stage playing. Not before. And it's only two days," he said at her skeptical face.

"What if after those two days we do not find a concertmaster?"

"We will find it. I am certain," he glanced at her, his eyes smiling.

"Then, I can only trust you Mr. Edwards." Shizuma rose from her seat and again the man mirrored her.

"I'm thinking…would you like to meet the orchestra now? They are all here. I told them I had a surprise," he laughed, again that hearty laugh that made her felt so secure. _It's the good choice…Thank you…Nagisa._ She never thought that she would thank the red head someday. It felt weird.

"I would love to," he gave her his right arm and the woman accepted it happily.

They kept talking on their way to the concert room. When they reached the door, chatters and music could be heard. Philip turned to Shizuma and grinned. "Let me go first. I want to prepare your entrance," she released her grip on his arm and winked.

The man opened the door, greeted by cheers and laughs. "Ladies and gentlemen, I've got a good news and a bad news for you. Which one would you like to hear first?"

A musician shouted. "The bad one first!" Heads nodded in unison.

Philip's face became suddenly a lot more serious. "You are all going to work… " sighs of despair could be heard among the musicians. Hardening his expression, he went on."…Because young guys, I have found you a conductor." Eyes widened.

The same musician that shouted earlier spoke again. "We don't need a conductor! We are fine like that!" Again, heads nodded, agreeing with him.

"In my opinion, I think you do." A husky feminine voice answered him from the door.

Heads in unison turned to the direction of the voice. They gasped.

Shizuma smiled. That mysterious smile she wore each time she was with an orchestra. That smile which meant a simple thing. _I. Am. The. Boss._ _Here._ She walked toward them, looking at the musicians, making each one feel like there were only the two of them in the world.

Silence filled the room. She stepped in front of them, the projectors emphasizing the unusual color of her hair. "Pleased to meet you all. My name is Shizuma Hanazono and from now on _I_ will be the conductor in this orchestra. Is that clear?" She said her voice sweet but strong at the same time.

They nodded briskly.

Shizuma quirked a brow when she caught the musician who spoke earlier in her field of view. He looked back and nodded vigorously as well. She lifted her head to run her eyes on the entire orchestra that looked back in awe. She gave them a warm smile and they cheered.

* * *

Her hips were matching the music. It was loud, but she did not care. Taking a spatula in her hand, she continued to dance while cooking. It was Sunday. She loved Sundays. Why? Because she did not have to work, and that was cool. She mixed the content of the pan in rhythm with the drums and plunging her index in it and tasting when it was done, letting a satisfied noise before a knock on the door broke her move.

"Comin'!" She ran to the door still dancing with the music.

"Ouch!" A young blonde man covered his ears when crossing the threshold. "Why the hell is it so loud?"

The woman gave him a blank look before heading to the kitchen. "Because it's Sunday," she said as if it was obvious.

He followed her, hands still on his ears. "And what is there on Sunday that you need to make us all deaf?"

She lowered sound of the stereo placed on the shelf before turning to him again. "There, Leslie. Happy?"

He was going to answer when he heard _it_. His eyes widened. It was a muffled noise but Leslie could distinguish clearly. Coming from the upper flat. If he could hear it, so she could. After all, her hearing was very keen, definitely more than his.

"I am quite sure she is pretending," she said, grinning.

Leslie looked at her with a shocked expression. "I think I prefer the music, in fact."

They laughed together and Leslie took a seat in front of the bar that was used at a table as well. Looking at the woman's back who kept cooking, swinging her hips left to right.

"Why are you naked by the way?"

"Where are you?" She asked back, not turning around.

"Your flat," he said, seemingly puzzled.

"Exactly," the woman turned to Leslie, laying her blue-yellowish eyes on the brown ones. "My flat, my rules. If I want to walk naked, I walk naked. Get it?" Her glance fell on her large shirt and her bare legs. "And I'm not. I'm wearing underwear as well, so shut up and settle the table, man."

"Yes ma'am!" Leslie smiled and gave her a mock salute before getting two plates for them.

A moment later, they were sitting on the chairs before the bar, enjoying their meal and chatting. "…And then she told me 'I thought it would help me to change my mind' before collapsing on the ground!" Leslie burst in laughter.

"Oh my God! I would have paid to see that!" Isis giggled.

"You have missed your chance girl!" His laugh faded and he took a more serious face. "Anyway I am here to propose you something good!"

"Leslie… you are a good guy you know…but right now, I am not searching for a committed rela—"

"Shut up and listen to me," he cut her. "It's about a job."

"I have a job already."

"It's about a better one."

"I have a very good job, you know."

"Isn't that you who complained about finding Kong's hairs _in_ your bra last month? You call that a good job?"

"Touché," she made a face. _Ugh, that was disgusting._

"Thought so," he smiled. "It's an audition." When the last word crossed his mouth, Isis' face darkened.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

Leslie gave her an irritated look, putting his fork down. "Can you please let me finish?"

They stared at each other, engaging a fierce and silent fight. Finally Isis looked away, sighing.

"Good," he said. "It's in a week, they…I mean we are searching for a violinist." When no reaction came from the woman next to him, Leslie sighed. _Here we go, _he thought. "A…concertmaster," the man précised.

Isis' head snapped back at him. "No way." And she began to eat again.

He went on though, not dropping the subject. "It's only an audition! Give it a try what do you have to lose anyway?"

The woman quirked both brows. "My pride, maybe?"

"You have no pride." Leslie shot back.

Her eyes narrowed and she gave him a threatening smile. "You know, if it was not for the random nights we've spent together, and that you have a little sister who cherishes you, I would have crippled you by now."

"Yes I know. I'm only a piece of meat, thank you very much." _Just a piece of meat, _he repeated to himself sighing internally. "That doesn't change my statement though, it's only an audition." When Isis looked at him again, he felt her defenses cracking little by little. _Good._

"Do you even know since when I have not played?"

"You play every day don't lie. I see it on your hands," he pointed them to prove his point.

"With an orchestra, dumbass!" When he kept silent, she went on. "Since I'm twenty, almost five years now. There is a huge difference between playing for your own self in the anonymity and security of your flat and playing with an orchestra. I'm not even talking about being concertmaster. You should know that."

"Bullshit."

"What?"

"I say that's bullshit, you are only making excuses because you are afraid of people and what they might think about music and about you. You are arrogant, perched on your little pedestal thinking that nobody should listen to your music because nobody deserves to."

Her face darkened considerably but she remained silent.

"I know you… I know you very well no matter what you say. Remember when I got hired by the orchestra two years ago?" Leslie asked his voice softer this time. She nodded. "You helped me, remember? The night we spent playing the first movement of Sibelius' concerto?" She nodded again. "The way you played so easily, the way you taught me your tricks…" He was smiling now, looking at nowhere, returning to that night. "You were literally glowing, Isis, shining with passion."

The woman made a face at his words. She was going to reply when he hushed her his hand.

"You were passionate," he said with a determinate tone. "You _are_ passionate by music, don't lie to me. Don't even try to lie to me about that…I've never told you before, but this movement, you played it ten times better than me. My performance the following day, it had nothing…absolutely nothing comparable to yours. It was tasteless, and yet they hired me, they cheered me. Can you just imagine five seconds what they would have done if it was you instead of me who was playing?" It was a question that needed no answer though.

Isis was silent, but the man felt that his speech had the desired effect on her. She looked at him, Leslie was grinning in awe.

She smiled back. "Get a grip on yourself dumbass, I did not say yes." He hugged her tightly, sinking in her scent. It was a clean scent, both clearly identifiable and elusive. _Just like her_, he thought while tightening his embrace.

After three minutes of hugging and because the man seemed to enjoy himself a little too much, Isis decided to speak. "Leslie?"

"What?"

"I am quite hungry now, so if you could…" she waved her hands.

"Oh, yes yes!" He pulled back giving an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

"Thank you," she winked and began to eat again.

* * *

Shizuma cringed, eyes shut. Wrong note again. She opened one eye to look at who was playing, or rather slaughtering the poor Handel's masterpiece. It was a boy, sitting straight on the chair, eyes closed. His violin was shaking violently at each note. He looked…constipated, his features drown in pain. She continued to play nevertheless, praying in her inner-self that he would stop before her ears bleed.

This seemed a very good idea when Philip exposed it to her. The random entrance thing. Giving a chance to anonymous players. Yes, a very good idea…on the paper.

In reality it appeared to be Hell.

Fortunately for her, he was the last one playing. After that, she would have to give her impressions to the orchestra manager and the resumes she kept with her. There was only one actually. From yesterday, when only music students were allowed. The violinist played marvelously. It was good, very good, full of technique, elegance and grace. That girl was one of the top students, Shizuma was certain of that. Though…something irked her…a little tiny thing was missing. Her technique was very good, full of elegance and grace. Her interpretation was the best she had heard so far. Nothing to fault. But…yes there was a but. Something was missing. She had no idea what, but it was not there. _I will work with her on it… and find out._ She smiled, the musician played marvelously… and she was as beautiful as her music. She would have a lot of fun _searching_ and _fixing_ the problem. Her smile turned into a devious smirk.

Ouch. Wrong note again. Shizuma shook her head in despair. _Hopeless…really._ She decided to move, it could not last any longer. She valued her ears, damn it!

"I think we will stop here," she turned her head to face the musician who snapped out violently and made a final wrong note to finish off. Shizuma clenched her jaw one last time. She rose from the piano seat, took his coat while he was putting his instrument in its case, and walked to the door, waiting for him. It was not polite. It was unworthy of her. But she did not give a damn this time. She was tired, her ears were buzzing uncomfortably and she wanted to take a boiled shower before she slept. In silence. So, yes she did not care if she seemed to be eager to leave this place. Because it was true.

"Aehm s-so, how was it? I mean…am I hired?" The young man asked innocently.

"We will call you back," she opened the door, silently ordering him to get out.

He took his coat from her hands, face puzzled. "B-but I did not give you my resume y-yet…"

"We will call you back," her voice cut, eyes daring him to say anything else. She was not in the mood.

He sighed and left the room. When his footsteps were not within earshot anymore she closed the door, leaned her back on it and closed her eyes.

And…silence. Holy silence. Shizuma decided that she worshiped it. At least, for tonight.

After five minutes of complete stillness, she moved to the table where her own coat and purse were waiting patiently. She turned her phone on while putting on her coat. Seven texts. Guess from whom? Shizuma sighed. She had forgotten Nagisa decided to cook dinner that night. She…decided_…to cook_…dinner…tonight. Shizuma would stop by a fast food before heading home.

Nagisa…was not what one could call a fancy cook. No, actually she was awful at cooking, things have to be said. She did wonderful patisseries though. But she was an awful cook.

Turning the lights off, Shizuma closed the door and walked to the parking lot while putting her gloves. It was freezing outside and she wanted to keep her hands safe. Working tool. Maniac girl.

The frozen wind sliced her face like a blade. Shivering, she buried her hands deeper in the coat pockets and quickened her pace, releasing smoked breaths. Her car was in view when she abruptly stopped.

The wind…the wind was carrying music.

She turned her head left to right. No one. The music stopped. Shrugging, she went to her car. _Must be my imagination._ Her hand was on the knob when she heard it again.

The wind was carrying the same music. Louder this time. Turning around, she looked at the building. The windows were closed it could not coming from there. True, Shizuma had a keen hearing, but she was still a human being, no matter what people think. She was not able to hear through those thick walls and windows.

She pricked up her ears, hoping to catch music and make an educated guess about where it was coming from. She waited, closing her eyes and slowing her breathing to focus only on the wind itself.

It whispered a few more notes to her… _Ah-ha!_ She turned her head to the left, smirking. _Found you! _She followed the music, stopping when she could not hear anymore, focused on finding it again. Whoever the player was, he or she was definitely testing Shizuma's skills, stopping abruptly and starting again. But never mind, the conductor liked challenges. She would find the mysterious musician.

Her ears did not fail her. It was the right direction as the music became louder, even though it was always stopping violently and starting again. Shizuma walked a bit more and soon enough, she was able to identify the instrument. A viola…no, no not a viola. Violin. Yes that was a violin. The notes stopped again, and when the music started she could clearly identify it. It was Schubert's Serenade_. _A few more steps and she was able to see.

It was a shadow. Standing against the wind. _So, that is the reason why I heard the notes._ Shizuma was frozen on the spot. The shadow was moving slowly in pace with its bow. No, it was making one with the bow and with the violin. Melancholic. Was what the picture in front of her conveyed. _Beautifully melancholic, _she thought and it almost brought tears to her own eyes. _Do not stop. Please…do not stop. _Shizuma begged silently. She wanted to know who the player was that could make a violin literally cry, but her legs refused to move. So she stayed, looking at the shadow from afar. Completely mesmerized. Hoping she could be able to listen to this violin forever.

The notes stopped abruptly again and a curse came out of the shadow's mouth.

Shizuma's eyes widened. She recognized the deep and seductive voice heard not so long ago. She walked toward it, the sound of her footsteps making the shadow turn its head to the left, releasing a frozen startled breath before facing her...

* * *

**Okay, so before I get all the Shizuma/Nagisa fandom hunt me down I shall explain myself. I will only ask you a question, if Nagisa was somehow brought to life, would you date her? No? Thought so. I am making this story as realistic as possible and in reality life isn't always happy and they really don't make a good couple. If your answer is yes, then just send me your hate mails =)**

**The second chapter is in my beta's hands so it would not take long before you get it. And it is MUCH longer.**

**Now on with the vocab:**

**Russian words: Spassiba: thank you**

**Nié za chto: you're welcome**

**French: Avant gardiste, in English I think you use the word avant garde or so told me Holy Google translate. ****Anyway it means the same thing as avant garde.**

**Jouissance sans plaisir n'est que ruine de l'âme: means exactly what Shizuma roughly said. ****That is the wonder with French you can say the crudest things in the most poetic ways. It's my twisted version of a well known saying. Will you find which one?**

**Music related vocab:**

**concertmaster he or she is the leader of the first violin section of an orchestra. He plays the solo parts in there's any. He's got a great role like leading the orchestra in tuning ect. It is usually required that the concertmaster be the most skilled musician in the section, good at learning music quickly, counting and observing the conductor for the rest of the section to follow. Thus the concertmaster has to get along well with the coductor and the musicians.**

**If you're confused let me know.**

**And I'd like to thank my ever charming beta Wicked White Queen for helping me through this, and turning a piece of crap into something readable for you. And Trent F as well who without knowing it played a great role in this too.**

**I'm done, until next time**_**.**_

_**Hazel.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is the second chapter. I would like to thank you guys who read and those who reviewed the first chapter, to say the truth I was not expecting any feedback so it did warm my heart in this cold winter =D thank you. It's good to know that you like it even if I introduced a bunch of new characters. As always please read ****SLOWLY**** because I haven't started the third chapter yet in fact. And I apologize in advance for the errors/typos you might or might not find. God knows how many times I've edited the first chapter because of them. We're still human beings after all.**

**I'm still looking for a musician who plays in an orchestra though, come on I don't bite. Until I find him/her let me warn you that even if I made some research this fiction isn't totally accurate my knowledge isn't that great on this subject but I'm improving! I'm improving!**

**I don't own Strawberry Panic!**

* * *

**Legato**

**by Hazel Liebovsky**

* * *

Chapitre Deux

"_It's only an audition! Give it a try what do you have to lose anyway?"_

Eyes opened in the dark room filled by silence. The shadow on the bed remained still for a moment, looking at the black ceiling. After a while, it moved up and leaned its back against the headboard.

"Damn you, Leslie," a haggard hand searched for the light and turned it on. "Damn you."

Isis blinked a few times, turning her head to the right. The clock on bedside table was screaming Friday, four am. She sighed. Her night was over. Great.

Thanks to a certain blonde man, she had spent the last week waking up at incongruous hours only to find herself not being able to sleep again. This was seriously getting on her nerves. She was tired and unable to focus when she was working. Why? Because of a damned audition she did not even want to do. She sighed again. No, she did not want to do it and only agreed because Leslie wouldn't have left her alone otherwise. She didn't even voice her decision! She did not want to do this audition...right?

The young woman ran her eyes over her bedroom's furniture, stopping when her gaze reached a case customized a long, long time ago. When she was still a young student, full of dreams and especially illusions. A woman's naked back was drawn handmade on each side of it, in the style or Man Ray's photograph, the head turned to the left. It was a very expensive case actually. A sixteen birthday present offered by her mom, not discreet at all. And she has always loved it.

Oh, God. Her mom. How long has it been since she last phoned her? Undignified child. Isis sighed again and took her phone. After the fifth ring tone a sleepy female voice answered her.

"_You've got five seconds exactly to explain me why I shouldn't hang up." _

"Mhm, let me see... maybe because I'm your daughter?" Isis replied after slapping her head with her palm. Of course. It was four in the morning. Stupid brat.

"_Who?"_ The voice was already more joyful.

"Isis."

"_Sorry?" _Isis giggled. She knew what she had to say.

"Mom."

"_Ah! Finally, how many times will I need to tell you to call me Mom?"_

"Until you die."

"_Oh God, happy thoughts already. What's going on sweetie?"_

She took a breath before answering. "I can't sleep."

"_No... For real? Want me to sing you a lullaby? Though, my abilities as singer are quite... limited."_ The voice laughed.

"No I..." Isis sighed. "I just wanted to hear your voice...I miss you, Mom."

"_You do?" _She could feel the smile in her mother's tone. _"Then get your lovely little butt on a plane and come visit me."_

"I... no, Mom. I can't," she said quietly.

"_Ah,"_ the voice sighed. _"At least I've tried, huh?"_ And that laugh again. _"Tell me child, what is bothering you? Isn't that man with a girl's name? Sandy isn't it?_

Isis smirked before answering. "It's Leslie, Mom and no it has anything to do with him. Or at least not directly," she took a moment before speaking again. "It's about an audition, for a concertmaster." Good, she said it, first step.

"_Sandy, Leslie, it's the same rea—wait, did you say an audition?"_

"Yes."

"_That's... wonderful!"_ The voice cheered. _"Really, Isis that's wonderful!" _And for the first ten seconds she felt the joy making its way in her as well. Only for ten seconds though, and reality slapped straight in her face with its icy claws.

"Mom... I can't do it."

"_Of course you can. And you will do this audition."_ The voice scolded.

"It's been too long Mom. They are searching for a professional player…I mean, I haven't played with an orchestra since..." she stopped here, unable to end her sentence, the memories were still here, too fresh.

The voice on her phone sighed. Of course she knew. _"You want to do it, Isis,"_ she said as softly as she could.

"No."

"_You want to do it,"_ the voice repeated. _"Or else you would not be bothering an old woman at four o'clock."_

Isis remained silent for a while. Her mother spoke the truth. She had nothing to say, nothing because it was right. She was dying to do this audition. Just... a try as Leslie said. Just to see if she could still do it. Just to free herself from a past that has left her life to rot for almost five years now.

"_Am I wrong?"_ Her mother's voice snapped her out of thoughts.

"No... I" _Face the fucking truth!_ Isis shook her head. "No, you aren't wrong Mom." Admittance was second step.

"_Then, look at your violin case, look at it."_ The voice waited a bit and went on. _"Are you facing it?"_

Isis glanced at the case. "Yes, I am."

"_Good. Now take it and go play on the roof," _her mother said in a dead serious tone.

Isis laughed, but it fell flat when her mom remained silent. "Wait, you're serious?"

"_I am,"_ she answered simply.

"But it's freez—"

"_No more buts daughter. You've used them too much these years. Now do it. And let your poor old mother sleep."_ The voice said in an over dramatic tone.

Isis considered her mother's proposition. True, it was cold outside. But she needed practice and playing at four in the morning in your flat was not a good idea says the neighbors. The roof, on the other hand was a good place. Silent and calm, nobody ever came, nobody cared about the roof. Still, it was cold outside. Very cold.

"_Isis..."_ The tone was a little harsh. Only a little.

She sighed. "Fine, I will play."

"_Good," _the voice released a sigh._ "Now let me sleep."_

Isis laughed, she said goodbye and was going to hang up when something hit her. She had to ask. Maybe this time she would get an answer. Oh maybe!

"Mom?"

"_Yeeesss?"_

"Who chose my name when I was born?" She asked softly. Yes, maybe she would get a response this time.

"_Me."_

"Then, why the hell did you call me like tha—"

"_I want to sleep. I love you. Goodbye!" _Her mother cut her, speaking as fast as she could before hanging up violently.

Isis froze on the spot, the phone still at her ear. Damn. _Not this time_.

It was a question that has been bothering her since childhood. Why such a name? Not that she hated it. No, in fact she did. It was a weird name. And children were not known to be the kindest people in kindergarten. But time passing she grew to like it, little by little. And this question always remained in her mind. Her mother never answered it, no matter how many times she asked, how many tricks she imagined to make her tell the truth about this mystery...that would remain a mystery, for now at least.

"I will get my answer before you die, old woman," she rose from her bed, walking toward the wardrobe to choose something warm. While dressing, she glanced at the case again. It was lying carefully on her furniture. She really did love it.

"It's you and me, baby," she smiled at the woman's back on it. "Like old good times." Isis grabbed its handle before heading to the roof.

The last step was action.

-0-

"Oh my God, Isis I'm in love!" A joyful Ann slapped the rest door open, turning around herself with her arms wide open.

The sound startled the other woman who nearly fell from the table she was lying on. She barely caught her balance.

"Were you asleep?"

"No. I was getting high." Isis answered sarcastically while sitting on the table "Wasn't it obvious?"

"Oh, fine then. You look like crap, by the way." Ann washed the woman's answer with her hand before she could even voice it. "I'm in love!" She said her face lighting up. "I'm in love, I'm telling you!"

"Okay, stop yelling and shut that door already." Isis massaged her throbbing temples after fixing her hair and putting her glasses on, mostly to hide the bags that had decided to relocate themselves below her eyes.

"You're such a mood killer, little girl," the employee went to close the door, left open after her outburst.

"Now come and sit kiddo," she smiled warmly at her while pointing to the chair.

A childish grin split half of Ann's face and she literally flew over, to the chair facing the table and sat cross-legged on it. "I'm in love," she repeated again, looking completely out of it.

"Who is the victim?" Isis smirked when the woman's grin dropped and rephrased her sentence, "Who is the ever lucky person who caught your heart…" She trailed off "…This time?" Her smile widened.

"Bitch."

"As always." Her face became more serious. "So? Who is he?"

"_She_. Who is she." Ann corrected.

The woman gasped. "You're not serious, are you?" All she got was a mischievous smirk.

"Aphrodite."

The other gave her a puzzled look, "Aphro..." then she remembered a certain funky silver haired woman she entertained because she was bored. Said woman who ate half of her chocolate, by the way. "Oh, The pianist! You meant the pianist?"

"Pianist? How do you know she is a pianist? She told you she was a pianist? She didn't even tell me she was a pianist!" Ann pouted. Actually, if she came to think about it a little further - which she had not - she would notice that Aphrodite did not talk about herself at all, letting the girl lead the conversation.

"She did not, calm down. I guessed because I'm just so damn gifted. Don't cry kiddo." Isis giggled. "So are you sure you are...you know...'in love'?" She emphasized the last words by making quotation marks with her fingers.

"Yes!" Ann gave her a bright smile, showing all her white teeth.

"It is a woman, you know that? She doesn't have the dangling thingy, Ann."

"I know."

"You know she's got breasts, Ann." Isis said in the same even tone she used in her previous sentence.

"I don't care about breasts," the other answered bluntly.

"Ah-ha! That's it!" The woman smirked widely "That's exactly it. You don't care about it, but _she_ does. What do you think you will be doing with her? Play scrabble and cuddle before a fireplace while listening to cheesy Barry White?" When the girl tried to reply, Isis went on. "She is a predator kiddo, who knows exactly _what _she wants and _how _to get it."

Isis was right, she knew she was. She felt it, that woman...that woman was a temptress, a nymph who could easily lure you. She noticed it. With a single glance she noticed it. People like this pianist were players. And they would stay players for life, until they meet someone more deceitful than them, the roles would switch and they would become the prey. Suffering as much as they made the others suffer.

"Now if you want what she wants, then go for it. But I can tell you that she is certainly not longing for your brain." Isis finished with an unusual motherly tone as she glanced at Ann's distressed features.

After a moment of _intense_ reflection Ann asked bluntly, "What if I want what she wants?" Sure, being this way...with another woman...it was not a big deal, was it? She could handle it, right?

Isis' face darkened and a mischievous smile appeared on her lips. "Then..." she started with her deep sexy voice while walking slowly toward her. "Would you be able to..." ever so slowly she leaned in, her face only a few inches from a completely frozen Ann. When their lips were only a breath apart, Isis turned her head to the right and leaned to her ear, parting her lips and whispering the end of her sentence.

Ann turned pale.

Pulling back, Isis admired her handiwork. "Welcome to the reality, kiddo. Hope you don't get 'eaten' too fast." she giggled when the younger woman looked at her, completely terrified. She was going to speak again when the door opened letting random employee come in the rest room.

Isis winked to her before leaving. She had to work.

-0-

The clock on the beige wall of the massage room showed half past six pm. She was going to be late. Pouring more oil on her palm, she ran her hands smoothly on the customer's bare back. Yes, she was late. Leslie told her the audition would end at seven. And her shift was ending in fifteen minutes. Damn. Punctuality was definitely not one of her strongest points, but being late for an audition was surely not a good idea.

She circled her thumbs in a strategic point, making the woman melt on the massage table and moan.

"God, this feels so good," the customer said with a dreamy voice.

"I bet it does." Isis answered without thinking. Right now she was more worried with the audition. She had grown stressed during the day and she was going to be late.

"Isis?" The lying woman asked shyly.

"Yes?"

"Could you...um...you know..." she turned her head to face her, a light blush on her cheeks.

The employee looked back and smiled. "Of course," she lowered the towel that was on her behind a little bit and made her way to the south with her fingers.

Relieved that she hadn't been forced to voice her wishes, the woman settled back into position before releasing a reassured sigh. "Thank you."

Trailing her hands on the lower back, Isis found the point she was searching for and started to massage it, switching slow and smooth to harder motions. It was known for its aphrodisiac virtues, she had been taught by woman from Thailand. Isis remembered the first time she tried the massage on a customer, at first a little reticent. The following day this very same customer came back, hugged her tightly and thanked her a million times for as, without this massage she would not have spent a hell of a night turning her house upside down with her husband for six hours.

Word to mouth playing its wonderful trick, soon after that, a lot of customers came to the spa asking ever so shyly for 'the massage that could turn them on for half a day'. It became very popular among the thirty and more years old women who wanted to reheat the flame with their companions without going to a swinger club.

"Oh… yes... oh my goodness yes!" The customer gripped the edge of the table. "Don't stop!" This snapped Isis out of her thoughts and her eyes widened. _Is she going to...oh God, no! NO! Not here!_ She stopped her motions

Too late.

A side effect of this turn on massage was that it was _too_ much turn on. Thus, a lot of women often reached the nirvana before even coming back to their homes. A pity for their husbands and for the spa itself that had to invest a lot of money in new sheets now.

"I... I think I'm done, Miss." Isis broke the awkward silence that settled.

"Oh... um... o-okay, good." The woman wrapped the towel around herself while shifting in a sitting position on the edge of the table. "I'm... I'm sorry," she said, head on the right carefully avoiding eye contact with the other girl.

"It is fine." Isis gave her a reassuring smile. _Bitch_, she thought,_ I'm going to be even more late thanks to you. _"It's fine really, do not worry about that." She said forcing her smile a little longer.

She let the woman get off of the table, still trembling a little from the experience. After packing her stuff, the customer left the room, apologizing one more time for the inconvenience. When the door shut, Isis glanced at the clock on the wall. It was ten to seven. She sighed and began to clean. Too late for the audition now. _Sorry, Leslie._

No... No, actually she was not sorry. Not at all.

Her jaw clenched. Anger was making its way into her.

A week without sleeping. An entire week. Nights of practice in the cold breeze on the roof. Countless hours of stress. A whole night of introspection pondering the pros and cons. Hell, she even called her Mom! All that... all that over nothing? That was too bad.

Hands turned into fists at her sides, she looked at the clock again. "Fuck it all." Isis hissed while walking out to take her case and her coat in the rest room without bothering to change from her work blouse and pants. Making her way out of the beauty salon, she started running. She could do it. She could run and catch up with the conductor before he left. Show him that she was worth his time.

Or so she repeated to herself... Just a try. _Give me my chance, damn it! _Isis screamed in her head while running faster.

-0-

She was panting, but at least she reached her destination. Opening the front door, Isis stepped in the huge building. It was not her first time to come; she had accompanied Leslie before and she knew some people of the orchestra as well. Unlike a certain conductor, she was not lost and quickly found the corridor that led to the concert room. Glancing at her watch, she noticed that she was only fifteen minutes late. It was good enough fifteen minutes, right?

She quickened her pace. Turning to the left she bumped violently onto something, fortunately Isis had the presence of mind to wrap her arms around her violin case, avoiding it to fall on the floor. It was a case, not a shield and she valued it as much as the violin inside it. She fell on her butt and let out a growl.

"Can't you fucking see where you're going?" The figure sprawled on the floor asked her.

She was going to make a sharp shot back when the woman glanced at the figure's case. It was on the floor, wide open. She looked at its owner, a young man. When he noticed his case on the floor he crawled as fast as he could, examining it carefully to assess the damage".

"Bitch," he spat, narrowing his eyes. "The chin is broken. I hope you're proud of yourself!"

She glared at him but made no comments. She could not. Because if it was _her _chin that was broken, she would certainly knock the bastard out and hang him with the violin's strings before peeling his skin. Standing up, she voiced a small 'sorry' before walking again.

"Where are you going?" The man asked. When no response came he added, "If it's for the audition, it's over."

Isis turned her head to face the young musician.

"The lady bitch they dare call a conductor literally threw me out of the room in the middle of my piece."

Her eyes widened in surprise. The conductor was a she? Strange. Okay that was not the point for now. She... she threw him out... in the middle of his interpretation? She dared? No one dared. Two facts could explain it; either he sucked, or the conductor was a picky bitch who did not want to be late for dinner.

Fine. Very well. Isis would not _disturb_ her any longer then. Narrowing her eyes she walked back to the exit, slamming the front door after her passage and leaving the man completely stunned by her mood swings.

She was angry.

Angry at that little spoiled ass they hired as conductor.

_Who am I kidding?_ Isis smiled bitterly. She was angry at herself. Angry because she believed in it. Angry for feeding her illusions about this audition throughout the week. Angry because she lied to herself again. No, no, of course no, she could not do it. Why did she think otherwise? Why? Fool. She was a fool. That was it. A complete fool.

Tomorrow, she would kill Leslie.

But now, now she needed to release the pressure. She walked to a place, not far from the parking lot. It was empty only highlighted by single floor lamp. It was bleak. Perfect. She put the case on the ground carefully and opened it. The night blue velvet shinned in the moonlight. Taking one of the three bows in one hand, she caressed the violin before taking it by the fingerboard. She turned around to directly face the wind.

And then she started to play Toccata & Fugue. It was raw. Erratic. A complete draft, but she did not care. She needed this wave of wildness to wash her anger. It always helped, as it did tonight.

"Fuck," she whispered, stopping the music. "Just. Fuck," her fingers were starting to freeze thanks to the cold wind and she had forgotten her gloves at work because of her spontaneous rush. She began to play again. Louder. Harsher. Sharper.

"_You are arrogant, perched on your little pedestal, thinking that nobody should listen to your music because nobody deserves to."_

Leslie's words echoed in her head. Arrogant? Really? Who was the arrogant one here? Her, or this mysterious conductor who doesn't even let people prove themselves and throw them out without mercy? _She_ was the one perched on the pedestal.

The music stopped again and Isis panted. Closing her eyes she took long, slow breaths. Exhaustion. She was exhausted, the pressure had loosened its claws on her shoulders and tiredness happily took its place. She could feel them. The tears, just behind her eyelids. But they did not fall when she opened her eyes. They never fall. They've stopped falling a long time ago. Their source had dried.

She played again. If the tears did not want to fall, she would make her violin cry for her. This time it was slow and sad. Painfully sweet. After all, Schubert's Serenade was not known to be a joyful piece. Memories rushed before her eyes and she shut them tightly, playing even louder. She could see them in her mind. She could see _him._

Her little finger slipped and she stopped before making the inevitable wrong note that would have followed.

"Damn it," she cursed.

At the same moment, footsteps could be heard behind her back. Isis released a smoked yelp before turning her head to the left, eying the listener. She caught a glimpse of silver hair before she turned around to face the person.

Silence filled the space between them. Isis' face would have shown surprise if she was not so exhausted. She remained still, staring at the woman in front of her. Though she must have been standing there, like any other mortal, it seemed to her that Aphrodite had descended from Olympus and was next to her, reaching for her with a gloved hand, eyes wide open.

_Nymph_. No, definitely not. Isis was not ready to deal with her tonight. The flirt was fun last time, but now she was not in the mood. Shaking her head, the violinist knelt on the floor to pack her instrument in its case.

"Good evening." Shizuma engaged the conversation simply. _Don't frighten her._

"Yeah, hello." That deep and sexy voice answered. _Go away_.

_Yeeshh, cold._ She wondered if it was really the same girl as the spa. She seemed very different. "I... I heard you playing." God, why was it suddenly so awkward? "You are good. Very good in fact." _Meaning: I almost melt in tears when I heard you but I won't say it. _Coward.

"Thank you." Isis did not look at her, still pretending to be busy with her case.

When she understood that her silence would not get rid of the woman for her she decided to speak again. "What are you doing here? Are your part of the orchestra?" She couldn't be, Isis knew the pianist, and it was a man.

"Sort of yes." Shizuma responded. Miss Magic Hands was finally making a sentence with more than two words in a row and for some reason, she felt strangely proud of herself. "I am the new conductor."

Isis' head snapped up and she glared at Shizuma. "You are?" The tone was harsh, brutal.

"I am." The conductor answered simply with an even voice.

"Good," with that she rose from the floor and started walking in the opposite direction.

Astonishment filled Shizuma's features. What was wrong with this woman? No one ever dared to turn their back to her like that. She was the one doing it. Not the other way around.

"Wait!" She said, louder enough to be heard by the other woman.

"Get lost!" Isis spat walking away. She did not know where she was going, but she was going, for sure.

Shizuma froze on the spot. _Hasn't she just...?_ Oh yes, she has. Something was definitely wrong with her. She just wanted to compliment her on her music and maybe ask her to play again, inside this time, and why not get her name by the same way? And she, she treated her like a... like a... a...

Human being.

The conductor smirked. She definitely liked this girl.

And Shizuma did something she hasn't done since a good time. Running after someone. Grabbing the woman's arm, she made her turn around to face her eyes. Again, something quite unworthy for someone such as her. But she did not care; if this girl was treating her like a simple mortal, then she would be a simple mortal.

"I told you to wai—" _Oh my God._ Those eyes...those eyes, the first time she saw them they were blue, clear blue with strands of yellowish green. Now...oh God, now that they were glowering at her, the yellowish green was dominant, only striped with blue.

She decided that she had just fallen in love with those eyes. Only the eyes though.

"Let go of my arm, Hanazono." Isis' voice snapped her out of her observation.

_Hanazono? _The woman grinned with pride. _Ah? So she still remember my name?... Wait, she remembers my name! She remembers my name!_ This sweet melody rang in her head and Shizuma really felt like hugging the girl right now, for the sole reason that she remembered her name. Stupid ego.

"No I won't," she said the grin still set on her face, "Let's go inside, I want to hear you play. You came for the audition, right?" She pointed the violin case is the woman's hand.

"That's it. I _came_, and now I am going so let go of my arm." Though, Isis herself wasn't making any effort to let go. Actually, she was fighting a silent and duel with herself. She wanted to go. She wanted to stay, she came here after all. No, she ran till here. Mmh, dilemma.

"Why would you listen to me whereas you have thrown that guy out, in the middle of his piece?" She asked, she had to know, and Hanazono's answer would set her fate. Do it, or not do it? That was the question.

The other woman gave her a puzzled look. _The guy? What gu—Ah...ugh. Him._

"He made my ears buzz." Shizuma explained. She still had a bad echo in her ears thanks to that very _talented_ musician. "He slaughtered Handel. I love Handel. He slaughtered him. He's out."

The violinist stared at her blankly. Though, deep, deep inside her she was relieved. Why? She was too tired to seek an answer now.

"He sucked?"

A nod.

"Really sucked?"

Another nod, eager this time.

"Let go of my arm?"

A shake.

"Please?"

Same response.

Isis let out a defeated sigh, this woman was coriaceous. "If I come with you, will you let go of my arm?"

A brisk nod and a smirk answered her.

Shizuma eventually let go and they walked together in silence. The conductor took the opportunity to look at the woman's profile. Her hair was straight down, reaching her blades and the night was giving it a beautiful nuance of black-brown. Her nose, so little and adorable, gave her a cute childish look. Wandering her eyes a little she glanced at the lips... oh her lips. Rosy. Inviting. Sensual. It is exactly at this precise moment that the tip of her tongue decided to wet them.

Torturous.

"Would you please stop that?"

"Stop what?" She asked innocently

"Checking me out as if I was some piece of meat."

"Am I? I was just admiring the scenery," Shizuma said.

"Of course, just admiring. Then keep your distance with the said scenery, please."

Her eyes widened. _Hasn't she just...?_ Oh yes, yes she has. Again. She was going to open her mouth when they reached the building. She slowed her pace when they entered. Shizuma still had issues locating herself in this place. But having this natural and very useless pride, she would not admit it, so she let Isis lead them to the concert room.

"Don't you have errands you must attempt to?" The violinist asked.

The question took her aback, suddenly Nagisa's picture flashed in her mind. Oops.

"No I do not," she lied, "Thank you for your concern though." Goodbye Nagisa! She was already searching an excuse to make up explaining her absence. _Wait…I don't need to, do I? I will just say the truth. I had a late audition with a musician…_She looked at the woman walking beside her…_a very sexy musician._

Yep, the truth would be good for once. She would tell it to Nagisa. Minus the sexy thing of course, the young woman might not take it well.

Opening the door, Shizuma went to light the stage while Isis, shaking her hands to regain some flexibility and blood pressure, made her way in the large alley which crossed the row of red seats in two parts. The room was big, usually used for conferences by the city itself and concerts of course. She stepped on the stage, opening her case and taking the violin and one of the three bows. The light blinded her a little and she narrowed her eyes.

It reminded her of the old time. The rows of seats, the large stage, the blinding projectors. Isis felt her mind wander, back to this time. She could hear the public applauding when they entered on stage. She could smell the scent of strings rubbing against strings. She could see the musicians sweating. She could feel herself smiling again.

"Ready?" Shizuma's voice drew her out of those thoughts.

Isis nodded and waited. The conductor walked her way to the last row, the one before the stage and sat, crossing her legs with a charming smile on her features.

Shizuma waited. And waited. And waited again. When the woman did not seem to want to start, the smile dropped. "What is the matter?"

The violinist looked back and pointed the piano with her bow. "An accompaniment, maybe?"

"You don't need it," she replied honestly. She had heard her. She did not need it.

"I do."

"You don't."

"I do."

Shizuma sighed in despair. Rising from her seat, she removed her coat and went to the piano. When settled, she turned her head to Isis. "Schubert again?"

She shook her head. "Paganini, Caprice number 24. You don't seem to be someone easy to impress."

And it was true, if the look on Shizuma's face was any help. Paganini number 24? That girl was crazy. Or either very talented. Or both. Number 24 was the equal of Hell for all violinists, mostly because of the left handed pizzicato. Knowing this the pianist realized that she had never listened to a live performance of a Caprice that was worth it. This night was definitely full of surprises.

Glancing at the violinist, she noticed that Isis' hands were…shaking? Maybe she had seen too big after all. "We can play something else if you want."_ I am giving you an escape, so take it._

Hands immediately stopped trembling and she faced Shizuma. "No, it is fine."

The other woman nodded and settled herself in front of the piano again. "Start when you are ready."

Isis positioned the violin's chin and closed her eyes. Taking slow breaths, she tried to calm down. _Easy…breathe…inhale…exhale…she is not watching you now. _The woman opened an eye briefly to make sure. _No…she is not. You can do it. There's only the two of you here. Only the two of you…only the two of us_. With that she started playing.

The first notes were hesitant but Isis quickly gained in confidence and played frankly.

Amazingly accurate.

Fast, but not rushed. Each notes hit Shizuma's ears like arrows and soon she found herself taken in this storm. Her eyes closed and her fingers slipped on the keys following the violin. They were not talking, they were not looking, yet they understood each other perfectly. Piano and violin playing in tandem.

_Here is the pizzicato part...let's see how you will handle it, my dear._ Shizuma played lower to be fully able to hear Isis. Opening her eyes and clenching her jaw in anticipation of wrong notes.

They never came.

Stopping completely her play, she turned her body to face the violinist. The woman saw those blue yellowish pools focused on the fingerboard, her fingers dancing, pinching the strings as if they had a mind on their own and the bow, moving fast and following them. Isis was not aware that the accompaniment she had asked for stopped itself. She was not aware of that stranger watching her, she was not aware of that ghost smile creeping on her face because she played it right. She was not aware that she was literally glowing on stage.

Isis did not realize that she was bewitching.

She did not, but the conductor did, and the more she played the more Shizuma found herself wanting more of it. All of it. That girl was good? Euphemism. She was perfect. Isis closed her eyes again once the hardest part was done and relaxed in her play preparing herself for the next one, the finale.

That would have come if a wrong note had not have decided to show itself at this precise moment.

Snapping out of her trance, she glanced at Shizuma who gave her the same puzzled look. They both threw daggers eyes at the buzzing and ringing creamy coat thrown carelessly on a seat. The pianist rose, giving an apologetic smile and walked toward it. Shizuma cursed herself for not turning her phone off when they came in. The ID showed it was Nagisa.

Oh, Nagisa. She made a face.

Voicing a small sorry to the woman still on stage, she moved away to answer. Isis shook her head and knelt to pack her violin in the case carefully. She was still in a complete blur, and it would take a good three minutes to gather her thoughts together again.

"I am sorry for... this." Shizuma walked to her a moment later, "It was..."

"It was your girlfriend - I assume it was because I do not think a lot of people call you honey on the phone - asking you why you were not coming home yet because she made dinner and it is getting cold." Isis cut her.

The woman's face went pale. _How did…?_

"I hear... a _lot_ of things, Hanazono," she winked and got off the stage. "You are a liar by the way, you told me you did not have errands. Or is your girlfriend not that important to you?"

Oddly enough, Shizuma felt the urge to explain herself to that girl but Isis interrupted her again.

"It is none of my business. Now, if you may excuse I am going to go." With that the violinist made her way to the door.

"Wait!"

Isis turned her head, giving her a quizzical look.

"Give me your resume so I can contact you," she said.

Oops, a resume. Isis knew she had forgotten something the moment she crossed her front door this morning. This something turned to be a resume.

Scratching the back of her neck she looked away. "I... have forgotten it."

"Then how am I supposed to contact you when I make my decision?" Shizuma's brow arched.

"Tell it to Leslie," she answered simply.

"And who is she?"

"He." Isis corrected with a smile. "First violin, quite tall, blonde with brown eyes and always wearing a four days beard. He drives a bike so search for someone with a helmet."

Shizuma's eyes narrowed. "Fine," she said her voice a lot more serious suddenly.

The other woman did not seem to notice the change in her tone, she waved goodbye and took her leave.

The conductor sighed while putting on her coat and turning the lights off for the last time this night. When reaching her car she stopped abruptly again. No music this time.

Shizuma just remembered that the violinist did not give her name. Again.

* * *

Slow, gentle sex was the secret cure to keep Nagisa silent. At least from blabbing around. So, when Shizuma did not want to talk, she knew what to do.

Just like tonight

It would help her to think peacefully and…stay in shape by the same way. And now, she needed to think. She thrust her fingers gently, keeping the same pace and taking the opportunity to let her mind wander as it always did with Nagisa. The time when she was body and soul with her partner during these moments had long gone. Was it even here in the first place? She did not want to seek an answer now, afraid of what it would be.

Shizuma thought about what happened earlier this night. This woman…this woman alone in the middle of nowhere, playing Schubert, her notes carrying so much emotions, so much pain. No one could convey this unless they have lived it. She could not be faking it, Shizuma decided.

Nobody could fake their feelings. Not even her.

A sad smile crossed her face when she looked at the woman beneath her, but Nagisa did not notice. Her eyes were shut, only her mouth was slightly parted to let out small sharp breaths. Shizuma shook her head. _Not now...do not think about that now..._ Fine, but when?_ Not now_, she repeated to herself, _not now_. To convince herself that there would be a right time, when she would really think about it.

Shizuma's mind ran away again, to the concert room this time, when they played together. When she stopped to listen to her. The woman sensed it. Talent. Raw talent. Untamed and pure talent. The violinist had it in her. But not just that, Shizuma felt something else in her when they played together, they _were_ together. The chemistry worked wonderfully.

They were on the same wavelength. Artistically speaking of course. And that was what she needed for her orchestra.

Because in other domains Shizuma had to admit that this girl...she irked her. She did not know what to expect with her. And this was not good. She always knew how to handle people, with a simple glance she could figure their personality out. Not with her though, once she was a very pleasant woman, entertaining, smiling and sweet and another time she was that... that... God she did not even had words to define her!

Frustration made her push her fingers a little harder. Nagisa did not seem to mind though, on the contrary.

Then she would have to find that guy. What was his name already? Leslie? Yes, Leslie. And tell him that she wanted to get in touch with this mysterious manicurist, violinist and hire her as concertmast—oops. She just remembered the...the other violinist, the student. Damn.

Realization made her slow her pace. Nagisa groaned, Shizuma voiced a small sorry in her ear making her shiver and settled in her former rhythm, the red head was close, she knew it.

_What to do? _She thought, they were both very talented, but no contest the manicurist had the upper hand, she had _it. _This little thing that Shizuma was searching for, she still could not put words to describe what it was, but she had it for sure. It was her decision of course, but she could not override the orchestra either, the concertmaster would have to get along with the musicians as well as with her. Suddenly her eyes lit up. The orchestra! That's it! She would just have to organize an audition with both violinists and let the musicians choose one of them. And pray that it would be 'No Name Yet' who would be chosen. Not that she did not like the other, they were both very talented but... wait, why did she need a justification? She was the boss. She wanted the manicurist. That is all.

Nagisa's eyes snapped open to look at her, it was only a matter of time now, and the younger woman was trying to say something. " I.. I, Shizuma I lo—ah!"

She thrust her fingers even harder. She did not want to hear it. Nagisa tried again, but this time Shizuma kissed her feverishly.

No, she did not want to hear it because she knew that she would not be able to say it back. Not anymore. _I beg you Nagisa... don't, don't say anything like that, please. Because I cannot tell you…_

With that, she let a final touch that made Nagisa shake beneath her. Burying her head in the hollow of her partner's neck.

_I cannot tell you that I don't love you anymore._

Shizuma wanted to weep.

-0-

_Ah, no._

Definitely not, it was not working.

"Stop," she said for the umpteenth this day, brow furrowed and eyes wide open. Something was out.

It was their first practice together...well, without the concertmaster, but the conductor wanted to try the orchestra first, to _taste _the musicians and their way of working together, thus figuring out how to lead them perfectly. But after two fruitless hours Shizuma decided to give up. Philip told her they were hard to lead. But she did not think they were _that _hard.

No, no in fact it's not that. The musicians were holding back because she impressed them, and this was seriously getting on her nerves. She did not need puppets. She needed people who would see her as a conductor, and only a conductor no matter her reputation. She needed to talk to them, not to make them faint of blush to death every time she made eye contact. This was an unfortunate side effect of being Shizuma Hanazono. She needed someone who would be the bridge between her and them, and translate her work in a way they would understand.

Hell, she needed a concertmaster. Right. Now.

"We will stop here for today." Shizuma smiled. "Good work." Ha! Liar.

Sighs of relief could be heard among the musicians. She spotted a blonde violinist packing his instrument and talking with another guy. _Must be him._ Getting off her dais she walked toward them, the blonde man was giving his back to Shizuma, only the other guy saw her approaching. He blushed, gasped and left the other alone, voicing a small 'good luck' before going away.

When the man turned around to see what had frightened the other, he met her eyes. Gasping as well, but not blushing this time. She quirked a brow. _Oh? Interesting reaction… _she thought_._ Usually men drooled on her, as much as women did. He must be gay.

"You..." she trailed off, letting her voice invade his head, "…Are Leslie, right?"

"Yes?" He was surprised, _how the hell does she know my name?_ Everybody here knew her but Shizuma kept referring to the musicians as 'flutist number one' and 'cello number four' seemingly not being able to learn their names. Or not caring to do so.

"Good," she gave him a seductive smile.

No reaction.

God. What was wrong with people lately? He should be turning into a puddle by now! Like that manicurist the first time they met. Damn.

"May I help you, Miss Hanazono?" His voice broke her train of thoughts.

Shizuma shook her head to gather her spirits. "Actually yes, you can. I would like to get in touch with someone." When he made a puzzled face she went on. "A violinist, who came for the concertmaster's audition, two days ago."

Leslie's face lit up at the word violinist. "Isis came?"

"I...Isis?"

He smiled before speaking, "Yes, she is tall," he pointed his shoulder. "Till here, brown hair with clear blue eyes?" His smile widened. "Actually, there is a hint of yellow in them if you look carefully," his voice was dreamy now. He was going to talk again or rather ramble again when Shizuma cut him with a swift movement of her hand.

"Yes it is. I think it is her," she said, eyes narrowed and voice abnormally huskier than usual. Actually, she was sure that it was her. And she had noticed the hint of yellow in her eyes, damn it! But why was he smiling like a moron when talking about her? Why? Suddenly, the image of the woman's wedding ring flashed in Shizuma's mind and she glanced at his left hand. No one. Good. So he must be the stupid guy, in love with his best friend's wife or something like that. The conductor felt the urge to laugh. But she did not. She was Shizuma Hanazono. And Shizuma Hanazono is not someone to laugh at people's misery... or at least discreetly.

"How was she? How was the audition? What did she play? Did she do any wrong notes?" Leslie asked, he sounded like a teenage fangirl.

"She was... good." _Mesmerizing._ Shizuma did not want to say the truth. Not to him because he did not deserved it. Why? Because he would tell this violinist what she really thought about her play. And the woman did not want that to happen. Stupid pride.

"Anyway, could you please tell her that I would like to get a meeting if she has the time?" The last five words hardly came out of her throat. Waiting for an answer was not part of Shizuma's virtues, even less asking for one.

Leslie nodded briskly, "I will tell her, Miss Hanazono."

"Shizuma." When the man kept silent, she repeated. "Call me Shizuma, please." She gave him her brand dazzling smile. "It is time for us to become a real team."_ And for me to learn all your_ _names,_ she added to herself, defeated. She never had to, back when she was only a guest conductor, learning a hundred different names each time she led an orchestra was only a waste of her precious time.

Leslie blushed this time._ Ah-ha! Caught!_ She smirked. "And as such, the orchestra is going to choose the concertmaster with me," her voice was loud enough for all the musicians to hear her. "We will choose among the two I have selected, and you will have a word on it."

Silence filled the room. They were going to choose? Great!

Leslie nodded again and Shizuma left him after saying goodbye. She had to see Philip before heading home.

-0-

He was sitting in his brown leather chair in front of this desk always flooded by papers. Philip did not seem to notice he had a guest. Mostly because Shizuma did not knock before entering. He asked her not to, saying that the trivialities of formalities were not necessary between them. She kept staring at him, feeling her body relax in this warm atmosphere that always filled this room.

"Will you sit down or do you prefer to ogle at me from the door? I'm quite good looking close as well, Shizuma." His tone had a hint of humor.

"I am not one to judge." The conductor smiled taking a seat.

"Of course, I forget sometimes about..." A shy expression appeared on Philip's face when he looked at her.

"Me being gay?" She laughed at his apologetic smile for not being able to say it himself. She had never hidden her homosexuality whatsoever in public or in private. She did not say it out loud, but she did not lie about it if asked either. Fortunately for Shizuma, the magazines related to classical music to which she accorded some rare interviews were not fond of juicy gossips. Nagisa would have hanged herself a long time ago if that was the case. "Do not worry about that, it's rather flattering actually."

She looked at the little candy box on the corner of the desk. "I am here for the concertmaster," she started absent mindedly, eyes glued to the box. "I think we ha—thank you Philip." The man grinned when he gave her a piece of chocolate, nodding to let her continue. "I think we have found two potential concertmasters."

"Two?" He leaned in his seat putting his hands together. "I thought you told me that you kept just one resume with you."

Shizuma swallowed the food before answering, "I did." Her face lit up suddenly, "But I have found another one. And she seems very competent." _Euphemism_.

"Oh, I see..." The change in the woman's tone and face did not go unnoticed by him. "And who is _she_?" He emphasized the last word, smiling sweetly.

"I only know her name," she said, "It's Isis." Oddly enough, it felt just right in her mouth. Meaning: it would felt just right in torments of passion, having this girl screaming beneath her and whispering that name to her ear. Oh God yes it would be so good. She smirked._ I will have you, dear._

Shizuma seemingly lost in her thoughts did not notice that her interlocutor choked in his seat, mouth open and eyes wide. "She came?" He asked after a moment, "Really? She came here for the audition?"

The woman nodded, a little confused by his reaction. She took another candy in the box.

"Well, it is a surprise. My dear you can call yourself very lucky," a gentle smile crossed his face at her puzzled look. "I know her. Isis does not usually play in front of people, let alone in front of strangers. She comes here time on time. I had the chance to hear her once, a long time ago when she sneaked in late at night to steal partitions," he laughed at the thought. "I caught her, to her defense she only said that music sheets were too expensive in shops, and that she would give them back."

Shizuma felt herself smiling as well, it reminded her of her time at Miatre when she was busy chasing or getting chased by the Sisters with... Kaori. Her smile flattened a little but kept its place. "I see," was all she said.

"You are right," he spoke. "She is talented. It would be a good thing to have her being part of the orchestra. As violinist concertmaster she could certainly bring the others up, but..."

Philip looked at her and she knew what was going to be said, she cut him with a nod. "Don't worry about that. We played together and got along pretty well in fact." Though, Shizuma was only referring to the musical part of the 'we got along well'. She felt that it would be a little harder for the rest to follow, but never mind she liked challenges, this woman would surrender to her. One day or another.

"If so then I don't have any objection, do as you please. You are going to hire her, right?"

"I would love to, but this decision is not only mine for the taking," she sighed dramatically. "I am going to make the two of them play in front of the orchestra and let the musicians have a word on it."

Philip thought about that for a moment. "You are trying to link yourself to them," Shizuma nodded. "It's a wise thing to do, I know that they still a little...um..."

"Frightened, impressed?"

"Sort of yes, I think they did not expect to have you as conductor at all – me neither actually -. They need a little time to...to..."

"Consider me as a simple being of flesh and blood?" Philip snapped his fingers in approbation before giving an apologetic smile to her. "I think it's because of my hair," Shizuma went on, dead serious. "It's always the hair."

Silence settled a few seconds before they both burst in laughter.

* * *

Isis was gently polishing her customer's nails, not listening to her rambling at all. But years of practice had taught her when to hum in approval, when to slip surprised noises or shake her head. She had become really good at this little game.

"I am done, Miss," the manicurist said after a little while, removing a few strands of hair from her eyes with one hand. She gave her usual plastered smile before rising from the seat. The other woman nodded and kept blabbing, seemingly not ready to leave the room anytime soon.

Isis packed the stuff in the closet, as usual. God, how she wanted to leave that place, it was getting late and she was hungry if the vocalizations of her stomach were any help. She just wanted to go home and melt in a well-deserved bath. _Get out!_ She mentally yelled at the customer. She would so slap some faces sometimes. Oh, she would, if she did not need her job.

Suddenly, her eyes widened. _Damn, it's today!_ Isis sighed in defeat, just remembering she had agreed to do some babysitting for her neighbor who was going to spend a very active night with her husband, outside. So she gently asked the manicurist to take care of her seven-year- old daughter. Isis had known her since she was three and she would have denied if she did not like the little brat so much and reciprocally.

She shook her head. _Goodbye lovely bath. It was nice daydreaming of you, at least._ Glancing at her watch, Isis noticed it was really time to go. She looked discreetly at the woman and analyzed her. Nasal voice. _Horrible_. Makeup. _Horrible_. Gesticulating while speaking too much. _Horrible_. _Got it._ The manicurist grinned.

She looked at her watch one more time, letting an unusual high pitched squeal, startling and effectively shutting the other's mouth before turning her head toward the woman. "What's the matter, darling?"

_Did she just call me darling_? She mentally cringed at the nickname, shaking her head. The manicurist showed all her white teeth in an apologetic childish smile. "It's just that..." she trailed off seemingly making her mind on something, glancing back and forth between her left hand and the woman. "Um no, no I don't want to bother you with this. It's nothing really," she said with a girlish tone waving her hands in front of her, the smile still on her features.

The customer's face lit up, "You know darling you can tell me everything." She gave her an encouraging smile.

_Caught you!_ Isis sang in her head, she began intertwining her fingers together, a shy expression appearing on her face. "I-it's just that...well today it's our two years anniversary with...with my boyfriend and…um, I wanted to, you know... make a surprise for him and all..." The little dimple fluttered on her right cheek. She looked away, twisting her wedding ring with her thumb. Three... two... one...

A nasal squeal followed by "Oh my God, it's so cute!" The woman immediately rose from her seat and hugged her. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Go, darling, go don't bother yourself with me! Oh my God it's so cute; I don't even have words to describe how cute it is!"

They walked toward the cashier, the woman literally dragging Isis out of the room with her. Paying, the customer winked at her putting her thumbs up and mouthing 'good luck' before leaving the spa.

Isis smirked when she left. "Too easy, really," she said in her usual deep voice.

"How did you get rid of her? No one gets rid of her. No one is able to get rid of her." Ann stated just behind her.

The older woman gave her a mysterious smile. "I am just so damn gifted, don't cry kiddo. I will teach you, someday... maybe."

Ann huffed.

"Anyway I'm off now, take care." The manicurist walked to the rest room, changing before going home.

-0-

"Say, Isis...?"

"Mhm?"

"Have you ever made love?" The little girl asked with blunt innocence making her babysitter shock in her cup of hot chocolate and cough violently. Almost dropping it on the couch they were both sitting on, watching a random cartoon on T.V.

"W-what?" Though, she realized her mistake when she saw the girl ready to repeat her question, mouth open. Isis quickly covered the devil tool with her palm before any word could be formed. "Shh! Don't say it again!" She muttered looking around to see in no one heard her. That is, until she remembered they were in her flat. _You're stupid _she scolded herself. "Okay brat, answer my questions first." She waited for the said girl to nod before removing her hand, "Good, where did you learn those words?"

"School, boys were talking about that."

She sighed, _obviously, school._ "Did you ask your mother?"

A nod.

"And?"

"She told me to ask you," a beautiful smile crossed her tiny face.

_Obviously, ask me, yeah._ The irony of this fact being that the said mother surely had a sexual life more active than hers. There was this unspoken mutual agreement between the mother and Isis, that all 'risky' questions would be directed toward the violinist. Well, not exactly a mutual agreement, the mother was more okay with it than the young woman. "Great."

The girl tilted her head to the left, waiting.

Isis looked at her and said the words that a kid loathes the most. "You're too young you cannot understand."

The smile on the girl's face dropped suddenly. "I'm not young! I'm a grown up! I'm a woman!"

The only grown up in the flat laughed like a moron. "You know, the sole fact that you say it proves the contrary..." she trailed off, "...Brat." The kid pouted.

Knowing perfectly that this stubborn little girl would not drop the subject so easily, and that not answering a seven-year-old questions is source of extreme frustration for the said kid and an open declaration to start World War Three for her, Isis adopted another way, smiling mischievously. "You want to know?"

A brisk nod answered her.

"You are a woman, huh?" Isis pointed her chest. "You see those?" The little girl nodded, "Well, you will get your answer when they touch the floor, deal?"

The little girl seemed to think, darting her eyes back and forth between her babysitter's eyes and her breasts, calculating how much time it would take for them to drop on the ground.

After three minutes of unbearable waiting, she finally outstretched her tiny hand to the other, "Deal," she said, showing all her teeth in a huge smile. Girl, you are definitely a genius in mathematics.

Isis had to use all her will to keep herself from laughing. She was going to speak when a knock on the door interrupted her. Rising from the oh so comfortable couch she went to answer.

A female yell and the door slamming was what the little girl remaining in the living room heard before seeing Leslie walking in the flat with her babysitter on his shoulder.

"You're chosen!" He turned around himself, Isis still on his shoulder.

"Put me down!" She yelled, barely able to dodge a fatal confrontation with the ceiling light.

"You are chosen, I'm telling you!"

"Leslie, if you don't put me the f..." She caught herself at time and glanced at the little girl on the couch, she was laughing completely taken in the euphoria of the moment. "Look, put me down right now or I puke in your boxers."

The man did as told immediately; he knew she was serious this time. When she laid her slightly annoyed gaze on him, he kept smiling like a kid, "You are chosen." Leslie said with a calmer voice. "The greatest maestro Shizuma Hanazono chose you."

"You are kidding."

"I'm not, I swear I'm not. She came to me two days ago. She wanted to get in touch with you; she even told me you were good!" He had the impression that getting a compliment from this woman was nearly impossible. And he was right, Shizuma could always get what she wanted by dint of coaxing, complimenting on a woman's beauty was simple. But things were not the same anymore when talking about music. She was demanding, with people as much as with herself. Compliments were sparingly given away, if not ever.

But this, Isis did not know, hence her skeptical look. _The bitch only wants to get in my pants..._ Images of their first meeting flashed in her head, _I won't give her this pleasure by believing her. Nymph._

"Sure," was all she said.

Leslie's brows furrowed. "You don't believe me? I am not lying, Isis," he spoke. "I do not lie, not to you," he added blushing slightly.

The woman's expression softened at those words. "I know. It just seems surprising - not to say unbelievable - that among all the applications she only chose me, and furthermore tell that 'I am good'."

The guy gently poked her head. "You think too much. Won't you allow yourself some space? At least once?"

He looked at the only other girl in the room to get her approval, she nodded briskly. "I agree!" she stated with a high pitched voice.

Glancing back at her, he quirked an eyebrow. "See? I'm not the only one."

"She doesn't even know what you are talking about, you dummy!"

"I know! I know, I know, I know!" The kid yelled bluntly.

"See? She said she knows..."

Isis smacked the back his head before he could went on. "Shut you, will you?" Then she looked at the little girl on the couch. "And you, It's time to sleep" She tapped on her watch to prove her point, "Get in the bathroom to brush your teeth."

"But, but I don't want to sleep now!"

"You do."

"I don't!"

"Are you sure?" Isis smiled mischievously at her. "Then I guess I can cancel your goodnight ritual."

The kid's expression dropped, she jumped from the couch, running to the bathroom grabbing her little toiletries on the way.

When they were alone, Leslie looked at his friend. "You are a hell of a negotiator, you know that?"

"I know," she grinned.

"You would certainly make a wonderful..." A glare from Isis deterred him to end up his sentence. "Babysitter, you're a wonderful babysitter," he swallowed hard.

"When the brat is in bed we could watch a movie," the woman drifted to another subject, walking toward the kitchen. When she came back she had some chocolate and popcorn in a big bowl. Leslie looked surprised. "We made them earlier. I had a cover this time," she winked.

The man laughed, remembering how they turned her flat upside down when they tried to make popcorn without any cover. Kamikaze.

The sound of the bathroom opening, and a little voice calling made Isis put the things on the coffee table placed before the T.V. and go to her bedroom. There, the seven-year-old girl was lying on the bed wrapped under her sheets, waiting sagely. Her tiny face lit up when the woman opened her case, carefully taking the violin in her right hand and one of the bows. Isis sat just beside the lying girl and smiled sweetly.

"What do we play tonight, maestro?"

The kid seemed to think a little. It was their ritual since the first time that Isis took care of her. Back then, she was only three and was afraid of sleeping alone. The woman was practicing and she noticed that the toddler had fallen asleep on her couch, music had the wonderful power to appease her fears. Since then, she always played for her at night. Plus it gave musical knowledge to the brat, it was good.

"Canta per me!" She said after a while.

Isis frowned. "It is a tough one little girl," when she saw that a shadow of a pout was threatening to show itself she smiled "Fine... fine but only two minutes."

She nodded, her features adorning a huge smile. The violinist settled herself comfortably on the bed before putting her instrument below her chin. She started playing; the song was normally erratic and loud. She decided to change the rhythm, slow and low to get the girl to sleep. She really loved that song. A little moment later, Isis heard soft snorts; she ended her movement always lowering the sound little by little until no notes could be heard anymore. Rising from the bed slowly she covered the kid with the sheets, removing a strand of the little girl's hair and kissing her forehead.

Leslie caught the scene from the threshold and he could not suppress a fond smile. _Yes..._ he thought. _You would make a wonderful mother, Isis. No matter what you think._

"What are you looking at, dumbass?" The woman uttered after gently closing the door.

"You," he said honestly. "I am looking at you."

Isis turned to face him a blank expression on her face, after a few seconds of silence she burst in a muffled laughter. "Stop your sappy speech, Blondie." She smirked and pinched his cheek before heading to the living room, turning around she gave him a quizzical look. "Do you want to get fossilized there?"

Leslie followed her after a moment. _I'm a... hopeless romantic. A fool, really._ He sighed.

* * *

Papers fell on the floor and she crumpled the one on which she was writing, or rather scribbling quavers, semi quavers and other indications all over it. Illegible. Spotting the bin the corner of the room, Shizuma extended her hand behind her before throwing the little ball of paper toward it.

Missed.

She sighed. That was not working, not at all, and for the first time in years she was truthfully worried. She did not have time to be worried. In fact she did not have time at all as a matter of fact. And this only increased her nervousness. Shizuma looked at the partitions one more time but nothing came to mind. Only two months and half. Two months and half including her preparation and the practice with the musicians to turn those sheets of paper into a stunning concert. Impossible. And they still did not have a concertmaster.

_Where have you gone oh my dearest creativity. Where? _Passion should actually be more appropriate. The woman released a desperate breath shutting her eyes and rubbing them slightly with her thumbs. _I need glasses..._ That's what she told herself every time she was working on partitions, but she kept forgetting about them until she had to spend countless of hours writing again. Stretching herself like a cat on the seat, Shizuma ran her eyes on the room. Her private music room. And hers alone, she had expressly forbidden Nagisa to touch it when she discovered her design madness. No flashy colors on the walls. No weird sculptures in the corners. All in this room conveyed relaxation, and only relaxation. Red walls, like the hall. Oh sorry, like it _used to be_ in the hall. Red like this dress she wore at the Etoile election back then. Red is the color of passion, right? Yes it is. But now, right now passion was not here, it faded away. Like it did with Nagisa.

_Oh God, not now! I do not have time for... this._ Fine, but when? Why was she thinking about it right now anyway? It's not like she regretted what she did, or rather what she still do... discreetly, not with someone from the orchestra of course not now... not yet, but she did have some _fun_ elsewhere. Shizuma felt bad. Not because she did not love Nagisa anymore or whatever was the feeling she felt for her before, no things like that happen she could not be blamed. Still she felt bad, because her frivolous side had defeated her reason, as it has always done. She felt bad because Nagisa never asked her anything. And Shizuma…she took everything from her. Her innocence, her life, her joy. She put this little seed in her, this seed which, instead of blossoming into something beautiful, symbol of their union, symbol of their happiness, symbol of their _love _for each other, had grown into that _Tacca chantrieri. _That orchid she once found when she was eight at her grandmother's house. All black. Morbid, monstrous and magnificent at the same time. She had rotten her. Rotten Nagisa just like black sucked the colors out of this flower. Enjoying every moment of it and leaving a lone, pale shadow.

_It is true... but I always failed to see it. I always thought that it would not last, that it would change. Disappear, or whatever. But it's still here... I have always done that... always. Always hurt people I claim to care about in a way or another._ _I should let you go..._ A lone tear made its way from her right eye down her chin. Indeed, she should. _I should tell you everything. But I... I can't, otherwise I would, I would..._ Her thoughts broke there, Shizuma could not finish and hid her face in her hands. "I can't," she whispered lowly shaking her head.

"What can't you do, honey?" Two slender arms wrapped around her neck from behind, startling her a little as she did not hear her partner coming in. Nagisa's head gently positioned itself on her shoulder and the younger woman kissed her cheek sweetly, looking at the papers on the table. "You should take a break if it tires you, Shizuma" _Please... please forgive me. _

"You are right," she took one of Nagisa's hand in hers and kissed her palm. "You are right," she repeated. With that, Shizuma rose from her seat and let herself being led to the door the door by her partner, glancing one more time at the music sheets on the table. Again, nothing came. The conductor shrugged, it could wait one more day after all.

-0-

She was skipping her lunch time. She... was_ skipping_ her lunch. She never skipped it. Lunch was sacred. Then why was she wasting her precious time? Isis quickened her pace. _Maybe I can catch her before she leaves._ Or so she hoped, because if _she_ was not there, then the violinist would turn wild. Literally. Spotting the building she quickened her pace again, almost running toward it. Not bothering to enter, she directly made her way to the parking lot and examined the cars.

"Oh, what a pleasant surprise!" A husky voice said behind her as footsteps could be heard. The woman turned around, meeting sparkling amber eyes and a charming smile. "As I thought, you are even more beautiful in broad daylight. Though, the night gives you this little _je ne sais quoi _which is quite bewitching as well." Shizuma added playfully.

"Enough with that, Hanazono." Isis narrowed her eyes. "Tell me why?"

"Have you eaten yet? If not we could have lunch together and talk about what bothers you, dear."

She rolled her eyes. "I do not have time, nor do I want to play with you now." Annoyance was palpable in her tone and the fact that Shizuma's smile did not move was even more irritating. "Just tell me why you chose me."

The conductor walked toward her car. "I won't..." and before the other woman could voice a protestation she went on, "Unless we have lunch."

"Look, you won't get anything from me I can tell you that. So spare the both of us a headache and tell me why so I can disappear and go back to work in peace." The violinist said, her tone steel.

"Are you sure of this? That I will not get... _anything_ from you?" Shizuma's smile turned into a sneaky smirk when she felt anger rising in her interlocutor. Oh, she was so enjoying it!

"Go to Hell," the woman spat, turning around to walk out of the parking lot.

_She's giving up already... pity really, _the conductor thought. _She is not in the mood, too bad. Very well dear, here it is._ "You have it," she said loud enough to be heard by the walking figure who stopped on her tracks at her words.

"What?"

"You have _it_." The conductor repeated, emphasizing the last word the smirk glued on her face.

"I have what?" Isis turned around, a quizzical expression on her features.

"It," was all she got and she wanted to yell. The conductor sensed it and tried to explain herself as much as she could, for as she did not know what this 'it' was either, she just knew that's what she needed. "Listen, I am not a liar..." Shizuma trailed off seemingly thinking about what she just said and shook her head. "No, no actually I am deceitful, you should never believe me." The other woman smirked. _"But_, not about music, I would not have asked you to play inside if you were not worth my time," she said truthfully. "You have what I seek for my orchestra, and I know we can do amazing things together," she smiled, not a charming smile, not a seductive smile, it was a real one, a dazzling real smile. "You felt it as well when we played together, you cannot deny it."

The violinist was stunned. Like really stunned. The older woman was right, she felt it when they played, but that was not enough to reassure her about the conductor's intentions. "So, you don't want to drag me in your bed?" She tried.

"I do."

She sighed, "Thought so."

"Still, you don't ask the right question, Isis." Shizuma said, delighted at the woman's surprised expression. "Your friend told me your name, quite pretty. Unexpected but quite pretty."

Suddenly, the violinist saw it. This sparkle which just crossed the other's eyes. This glint of playfulness she had seen umpteenth times on each face of each person who knew her name. She shook her head and narrowed her eyes at her interlocutor, then said what she had always said since middle school. "Look, I know exactly what you are thinking right now. So let's make a deal, if your joke is lame or already heard, I reserve the right to..." she quickly observed her and noticed Shizuma's long, silky ad well maintained hair. "To shave your head."

The older woman opened her mouth. And closed it. Opened again. And closed it again. This little game amused greatly Isis who smiled, _victory is mine_, she thought happily. Finally Shizuma sighed. "Fine," she said huskily. She valued her hair, she loved it, she worshiped it and she would not let a little joke destroy that because she had the strange impression the woman before her would really do what she said. "Still, as I said you don't ask the right question," the woman returned to the main subject.

Isis arched her brow. "What is it, then?" she asked sarcastically.

"Did you chose me because you wanted me should be more appropriate, then I would answer I chose you for your music, and your music alone. Your appearance is only a plus, nothing more, nothing less." Shizuma looked at her in the eyes to prove her point.

The violinist nodded.

"Good. Besides, I have not chosen you; I have selected you, as well as another violinist. The orchestra will choose who is able to be _their_ concertmaster, this evening at six."

"You mean that I am going to play for them?" She asked.

"Exactly."

"I refuse."

After a moment Shizuma smiled. "I will not force you." Astonishment filled Isis' features. She's giving up? She was not arguing? She was not trying to convince her? Why? She felt migraine knocking at her head and stopped thinking. Hanazono was crazy. Yes that's it, totally crazy. Satisfied with her thoughts, she started walking until the voice stopped her again. "Though," the conductor added, "Let that aside, I still want to drag you in bed, as you put so poetically, in _yours _actually," she laughed when Isis shot her a glare. "So, you still don't want to have lunch with me? It will be a public place I swear. And we won't be alone." She winked

Isis did not bother to answer and left Shizuma who laughed even more. _You will come... you will come to me._

-0-

Miyuki put her fork down her plate and stared at her friend who was seemingly very busy ogling at a blonde waiter's back. "Who is she?" she asked with an even voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Who is she?" The woman repeated.

"What makes you think that there is a she?" Shizuma tried, though she knew more than anyone else that Miyuki was not someone to be fooled easily. It was Miyuki after all. And as expected, it failed and her former roommate narrowed her eyes a little.

_Scary... and Dennis has to deal with her every day? Oh God._ She felt suddenly sad for the man. Still, she did not give up and offered Miyuki her best dazzling smile. _Come on, drop the subject, drop it._

"I've seen you in the morning Shizuma. This will not work," not a slight change in her face.

Epic fail.

The conductor let a defeated sigh and put her fork down as well. "Won't you at least let me finish my lunch?"

"No," it was not perceptible for a stranger's ear but Miyuki's tone had a hint of humor in it which made the both of them smile.

"You can't blame me for trying anyway." Shizuma said while taking a sip of her wine. She was not a drunk, but good meal always needed a good wine, that is what her years in France taught her. Of course, at this time she was only a little girl. All she could do was observe the grown-ups drink, and incidentally take a sip here and there given by her father secretly. Her heart warmed up at the thought. "What do you want to know?"

The other woman sighed. So she was right. She would have preferred to be wrong. "What is she this time? Cello? Trumpeter? Oboist?" Her voice kept slight annoyance in it.

At the word oboist, Shizuma's mind drifted back to Russia, directly in this brown haired woman's arms. Oh the night they have spent together! After this, she knew she would never forget how her name sounded in their tongues. Oh, yes their tongues...and the flutist's tongue...her tongue...

"Shizuma? Shizuma! Come back here, quick!" Miyuki scolded, waving her hands at her completely spaced out friend.

She blinked a few times, crashing back to reality. "Sorry I was..."

"I don't want to know," her friend cut her, then hardened her gaze, "Shizuma, you must stop this."

"I must stop?" She repeated innocently and all she got was an icy glare.

It has always been a sensitive topic. Subject of a lot of arguments between them since the very first time Shizuma admitted her unfaithfulness toward her partner, but years passing by, nothing changed. The conductor was stubborn and Miyuki knew it perfectly, she would stop her little game only when she would have decided to, not before. Her friend always tried to make her see reason, even if it was in vain. Like it was again today.

"You must, think about Nagisa..."

"Nagisa is fine," Shizuma cut her sharply. She did not want to be so harsh especially toward her, but she did not like Miyuki using her girlfriend as a pretext. This had nothing to do with the red head, nothing...right? Sensing that the discussion would have no end she decided to change her tactic. "Look, let's don't have this topic today, just for today. I know what you think about it, but just for today, let's just drop," she pleaded.

After a little moment, her friend's face finally softened and a ghost smile appeared. "Fine."

Again, Miyuki gave up, again Shizuma had what she wanted and again she magnificently dodged the truth, hiding it with an opaque veil. That is, until it will not be big enough to hide her secrets.

-0-

That is how she liked it. Mind boiling, pen scratching on the paper, feverishly taking another when this one was full, ideas rushing, and music. Yes. Music playing in her head. She could heard it, she could taste it. Shizuma could see the concert taking place before her eyes. The orchestra, the projectors, the public listening. Yes that's how she liked her job, when her creativity was rushing, when she knew exactly how to interpret each notes, each act of the opera. Aïda...Aïda she loved it. Emotions, pain, love, she knew how to make the musicians take those feelings and incarnate them. How to make people sense each change, and sink into the music, _her_ music. Yes she knew. Oddly enough, Shizuma could not apply her abilities in her private life.

She stopped her writing and took a piece of chocolate glancing at her watch on the table. A great indication that she is working if it's on the table. A quarter to six. Good. _She _will come, Shizuma knew it. Just thinking about her made the ideas rush again and the conductor took her pen to write them down. That's how it first started. A simple thought of the violinist playing like she did that night. Shizuma could still hear the violin's cries when she focused and, as always it sent chills down her spine. _That girl is talented..._she thought, _I...I need her. _Indeed, the conductor needed her, for the orchestra of course. But not just that. Though, she knew she could still dream on about _that_. Why? Because Isis knew perfectly what she wanted. And what she would never get. The woman pierced through her little game. She couldn't lie to her, she could not pretend or fake some infatuation toward her because it was not true and she knew it. A great change for Shizuma Hanazono. She only desired her because of the chemistry when they played...oh when they played! It was, it was supernatural, and the conductor knew that it touched both of them. Though, she seemed to be the only one whose libido was affected by it. Or maybe the violinist was? With her husband...every night... Her pen crashed.

Shizuma made a face. _Disgusting. What a waste really._

A knock at the door startled her, and she saw Philip coming in, this eternal warm smile crossing his face. "I'm sorry. Did I disturb you?"

She shook her head. "No, no I was done anyway. Is it time to go?"

He nodded, looking at the table flooded by papers. "You worked hard as I can see. That's good," he gave her an apologetic glance. "I was afraid the delay might be a little short."

"Actually it is," she said truthfully. "But don't worry," she went on when he opened his mouth. "I had a good...inspiration lately," a mysterious smile played on her face.

Shizuma started to pack her things. She had been working here instead of her music room at home as her inspiration and creativity seemed to sulk her, taking a mischievous pleasure to play with her nerves when she was there. She asked the orchestra manager for a quiet room where she could focus peacefully. It reminded her of college back then, of the countless nights she spent working in a room learning, no, eating partitions literally. And when she could not take it anymore, when she could not learn by heart others' compositions, she imagined her own. It was a good exercise to aerate her brain, a very good one she started since her first year at the Royal College. But she never showed her work to anyone, not even Nagisa. It was carefully hidden in the closet of her music room. Why? Because she was vain, and vain people cannot handle criticisms about their precious baby. And it was personal...too personal some of the compositions being written when her mind was drifting away, to Kaori. So no, Shizuma would not let anybody see them let alone, judge them.

She wrapped her silky scarf around her neck too lazy to hold it and walked toward the door where the orchestra manager was waiting patiently. As always he gave her his arm to escort the conductor to the concert room where the musicians were waiting for them as well. _She will come_, Shizuma repeated to herself, not so sure right now, _she has to come. _Damn. How was she able to make all her confidence vanish like that? To be so out of control, so out of _her _control? Philip opened the door and she scanned the concert room searching for those familiar blue yellow eyes.

None.

The manager felt her tension when the grip on his arm tightened. "Are you alright?" He quirked a brow.

She relaxed a little and nodded to him. But inside, inside she was burning. Why? Why wasn't she here? _I though..._you thought wrong. Shizuma sighed. _I've been arrogant, thinking that she would come because I was here._ It was what she had always despised in other conductors: cockiness. And this violinist made her fall from her little cloud. Showing her that she really did not care about what Shizuma might think or want.

_Serves you right_, she walked to the first row before the stage, the musicians were all sitting in the second and third row. She nodded at them, smiling. Shizuma turned to see that the student was already on stage waiting. The conductor smiled at her as well and the violinist returned it seductively which surprised the complainant. _So, she...? _She smirked and nodded back. She would have _what_ she wanted with her, at least. But it did not console her for the loss of the other, still.

Philip sat and she took the seat next to him. He looked at her a moment and Shizuma knew he wanted to speak. She had grown to know him, and the more she did, the more she liked who he was. "Disappointed?" It was a question, but both of them knew the answer already.

The woman nodded slightly, "I thought she would come. I was proven wrong."

He took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Don't worry, unexpected things can happen," he said with a wink.

Shizuma turned her attention to the blonde woman on stage when she coughed discreetly to manifest her presence. _Impatient are we?_ When their eyes met, she saw this flicker of irritation in the violinist's eyes and it did not amuse her in the slightest. Who did she think she was? _Ah, whatever. _"What are you going to play?" The conductor asked gently.

"Chostakovitch, waltz number two," she answered, sending another tempting smile to Shizuma who nodded, not paying much attention to the attempt of seduction. She wanted to assess her music now. The rest...well, the rest would come later on.

She put her violin below her chin, narrowed her eyes and started to play the waltz. It was good, very good just like when Shizuma first assessed her. This girl did not lack of technique and all the musicians, including Philip could notice it. The way her fingers went back and forth, it was how they were taught at the Royal College. Completely different from Isis' technique, still it was good yes.

But it was also boring

All of them could feel it as well. Something was missing but they could not put a word on it. It was just here. Or rather it was _not _here.

_Passion…_Shizuma's eyes widened when she finally found it. This...this exaltation, this force that all musicians who really love music have. This perpetual need to convey something, to give a message through their instrument. This fervor they put on their task to make each people _live_ the music through them. That was what the violinist was cruelly lacking. Sure, she was good but the way she made her instrument _speak _for her was mechanical like a child who would recite his lesson learned by heart to his teacher.

Eventually, the woman ended her play and waited for applause. Which never came. Shizuma looked at Philip who looked back; they turned their heads to the musicians behind who gave them the same blank look. Finally, she glanced at the violinist on stage. Truth be told she did not want to take her if all of her music was like that. But she did not have any choice either way. She cleared her throat. "Well, it was go-"

The door slapped open and a blonde man came in, carrying something...rather a yelling someone on his shoulder. "Leslie, put me the hell down! What do you think you're doing? Put me down, damn it!" Isis shouted, punching his back with her fists, which had no effect on him as he kept walking to the stage in a complete silence.

All the people present stared at them, not able to voice a word. Leslie reached the front row and put his luggage on the ground, grinning to Philip, "I brought you a stray cat. I hope you don't mind," he got a punch on his shoulder and winced. "She was at the door and did not want to come in." A glare froze his blood and when he looked at Isis the message was clear. _You. Are. Dead._ "You will thank me someday," he whispered handing her case to the woman who kept throwing him daggers eyes.

"If I do thank you, please make sure to wax out my eyebrows." Isis spat making Philip and Shizuma burst in laughter, soon joined by the entire orchestra.

"Well young lady, as I see you did not forget your humor," the manager said, wiping a tear from his eye. He gave a knowing smile to Leslie who nodded back. "Now that you are here though, would you mind if I burdened you with one of my selfish pleasures?" He asked gently.

She knew it. And she wanted to say no but she could not. Philip was one of the nicest men she has ever known, if not the nicest. And they both knew she could not refuse him this, hence the mischievous smirk crossing his face when she looked at him. Letting a defeated sigh, Isis put the case on a seat in order to open it, "Fine."

A grin played on Shizuma's lips but it soon dropped when the violinist shot her a death glare. She was not doing this for her, and she wanted the conductor to know it. She took her instrument, a bow and tuned it silently.

Another cough and the attention was drown toward the woman on stage again. She was annoyed, and she showed it this time. Philip furrowed his brows. Such an impoliteness. "You may take a seat, young girl," his tone sweet but preventing her to make a comment. She let a huff nevertheless, before getting off the stage and sitting.

Isis let a satisfied hum when she finished tuning her violin, looking up she noticed that everybody was glancing at her expectantly. "What?"

The manager pointed the stage. "There maybe?" His eyes were smiling.

She did as told, reluctantly climbing on stage. When she turned around to face them, the projectors blinded her a few seconds. Closing her eyes, Isis could feel stress making its way inside her and she started to tap on the fingerboard with the tip of her fingers in order to calm herself and not to let anyone know her hands were shaking. _Easy...inhale...exhale... they're all watching you... _she opened her eyes..._yes they're all watching._ Great.

"What are you going to play, young lady?"

Isis let a shaky breath before speaking. "Violin concerto of Vivaldi, first movement in A minor."

"Good choice," Philip nodded.

She put the violin below her chin and closed her eyes. First notes. Wrong. And she stopped. Opening her eyes, she looked at the faces. Isis spotted Leslie who gave her an encouraging smile. Fool. How could he have so much faith in her? Stupid guy. She sent him a desperate look and shook her head. "I'm sorry..."

"I'm not." Shizuma cut her sharply, her voice harsh and loud. "And you are not." The violinist glared at her. "Because, if you really were you would try another time. Do not lie, you just want to get out of here as soon as possible," she rose from the seat and pointed the door. "Then go."

Eyes widened. It was the first time that they heard their conductor talking like this to someone. She always spoke gently to the musicians, never shouting, never even forcing or raising her voice to be heard, the way she addressed to Isis was definitely unexpected.

The woman on stage hardened her gaze. She wanted to argue? She would get it. "Look Hanazono, you know nothing about me, don't you dar—"

"I do not care. And I don't want to know anything about you now. I want you to play, nothing more, nothing less. But I guess your arrogance makes us seem unworthy of your music."

Mouths opened. How was this woman able to stand against Shizuma Hanazono? Most of the women there would have burst in tears after receiving such a comment. Men as well in fact.

Isis' jaw clenched and she greeted her teeth. How dared she? Arrogant? Her? Oh God, how she wanted to jump on that spoiled bitch and show her who the arrogant one here was. She breathed. Fine. Very well. "Give me your scarf." she said in a steely tone.

"Excuse me?" Surprise was all over Shizuma's face. They were having a fight weren't they? Then how did this drift to her scarf?

"Give it to me," she said. "Please," her voice softer this time.

She did as told while the violinist put her instrument gently on the floor. When Shizuma handed her the scarf, she knotted it at the back of her head in order to block her view. When it was done, Isis raised from her kneeling position, the violin in her right hand and the bow in the other. She took slow long breaths and settled her instrument. Another breath and a scent caressed her nostrils. It was the scarf. Shizuma's fragrance. The woman sniffed it again, _Ange ou Démon...Givenchy,_ she thought... _you are_ _definitely a demon to me, Hanazono._

Isis started to play. It was loud this time, loud and confident. It was not arrows that hit the musicians' ears like it did to Shizuma's when she played Paganini last time, but strokes, gently inviting them to close their eyes and listen. Just listen. But they did not, instead, they stared mouth agape. They did not know what was the most amazing, the fact that she was playing with a scarf on her eyes preventing her to see anything, including her fingers and the fingerboard, or the fact that there were no wrong notes as would have been expected. One thing could explain it, she knew the movement by heart and especially she knew her violin, every curve of it. The violin was literally reading in her mind. Everything was here, the accuracy and grace. Inviting them to travel far, far away, in Italy where this piece was first created. Yes that is it. It was not a simple play; it was a trip, a trip leaded by Isis, a trip they did not want to miss. A trip they did not want to end.

She finally ended the music with a final note and chewed on her bottom lip nervously. Right now she could not hear anything but her heartbeats. And it was loud. Loud enough not to hear the first clap. Loud enough not to hear the second clap. Loud enough not to that almost everybody was now clapping and cheering her. Eventually, the violinist removed the scarf to see what was wrong and the light blinded her again and she shut her eyes. But now, now she could hear them and Isis felt a smile making its way on her face. A genuine one. A smile that waited patiently for four years to appear again and it felt good. It felt great. She opened her eyes and bowed. When she lifted her head she saw Shizuma winking at her, and she winked back. Isis was back. She was back again.

The applause died little by little and the conductor looked at Philip whose lips twitched when he nodded. They turned their attention to the musicians. The heads nodded briskly in unison, agreeing with the tacit decision. It was the manager who spoke this time, with this eternal fatherly tone. "Young lady, would you make us the honor of being our new concertmaster?"

And the cheers started again.

-0-

The euphoria of last week's event faded away. And Shizuma was now working seriously with the musicians. The critic path of the two months being crossed, they had to start practice now or they would be screwed. And she knew a lot of people were waiting for their performance, for hers especially as settled conductor now. A lot of orchestra managers, when acknowledging her decision became very interested. In a bad way. All they wanted is to see her make fool of herself and put that on the fact that London's orchestra had nothing comparable to theirs. It was true, it had nothing comparable to theirs. In fact it had a secret weapon that would turn all of them down.

Whose seat was desperately empty.

She glanced at it one more time before sighing again. Her swift movements were followed by the musicians, they have started to understand her a little more, yet it was not enough for the concert. It would be way easier if she was here because the musicians were still holding back even if Shizuma told them countless times not to do so. She impressed them, like she always did with everybody. Everybody? No because their newly hired concertmaster was the only one who was able to stand against her.

Philip put her hand gently on Isis' shoulder, startling her a little. "Still observing from away?" She nodded. "Why young lady?" He asked as he took a seat nearby.

"I don't trust her."

"Oh, I see," he noticed her case on the other seat._ Good. _"It's a very nice case that you have here."

Isis smiled at him. "Thank you," she handed it when he outstretched both of his hands.

Philip examined it silently, his fingers hovering on the drawing. "You have a really good hand. Those lines are magnificently fine. The perspective is beautifully done. I really like it," he said, sounding like a child with a new toy.

"Thank you," she repeated. "But I am not the one that drew it." A laugh. He arched a brow and she went on. "It's a gift from my mother."

"It is really beautiful," he paused for a moment and looked at the orchestra that was playing. "She's an artist isn't she?" Isis nodded not knowing if he was talking about her mother or the conductor in front of them. Philip glanced at her. "And you are too, young lady."

For the first time in a long time, she blushed. "I...guess," she said with a low voice.

The man smiled to her. "You know, you two look quite alike in fact," she made a face and he hushed her with his hand before she could speak. "Look at her," he added to prove his point.

And she did. Examining Shizuma carefully. From her head, her hands moving slowly in rhythm to her feet. It was the first time since they met that Isis took the time to observe her. _She is...beautiful_. She was startled by her own comment. But it was true, Shizuma was a beautiful woman, and the unusual color of her long hair did not even bother her, on the contrary. _It adds to her charm actually...oh God, stop that!_ The violinist shook her head to kick her thoughts out and watched the conductor again. She noticed that even if her brows were furrowed, Shizuma was adorning a beautiful smile. It was not the ones she kept when she wanted to lure someone. It was a genuine smile that showed itself only when she was working here. A smile that showed how much she loved what she was doing. How much she loved music. The only woman she would stay faithful to, no matter what happens.

Isis suddenly rose from her seat and took the violin case happily handed by Philip. She walked to the stage, climbing on it. The music stopped abruptly and she put the case on her seat not paying attention. She took the instrument and started to tune it.

"Second violins, you play too loud," she said. "The overture is supposed to be low and only when the violas start you play louder, not before," turning her head, she glanced at a flutist. "You don't mark the nuance enough, and your flute is a little detuned," the man nodded. When she was done tuning her violin, she walked just beside Shizuma's dais. "And for God' sake please stop holding back! She's already told you a hundred times! Play like you used to with the former conductor, damn it!" She scolded them all and the musicians looked shocked and nodded after a few seconds of incredulity. Isis lifted her head up to a stunned Shizuma; the violinist smirked at her face. Quickly regaining her composure the conductor looked at the orchestra, her smile wider than ever. "Let's play now." she looked at Isis one more time before lifting her arms in a swift movement and music filled the room again.

Philip observed the scene from away grinning.

* * *

**Woo! Done!**

**My sincere (or not) apologizes for the Nagisa/Shizuma fandom again. I will only say a thing, it needed to be done. =)**

**Vocabulary**

**A little je ne sais quoi could be translated as "a little something" in the sentence.**

**Pizzicato is an Italian word. it's a technique which consists in pinching the violin's strings with the hand instead of using the bow. Paganini kind of invented the left handed (for right handed musicians and the other way around for the lefties.) pizzicato which consists in pinching the strings with the hand placed on the fingerboard. **

**I invite you to search for Caprice n°24 on youtube it's quite amazing. In fact you should search for all the music I've written there it will give you some knowledge about classical music which is not always boring like some would qualify it.**

**Oh! And Canta per me is from Noir the OSTs of this anime are just amazing (it's the same compositor that created Mai Hime/otome's OSTs) and the manga is great too.**

**As I said previously the third chapter is far, far from finished. I need at least (and I said at least) two months from now to write it down and another two weeks to be edited by my beta, but don't worry I can assure you that it will worth the wait.**

**And sorry again if you spot some mistakes.**

**Hmm I think that's all. Oh yes! If you're already here, go up and re-read the chapter it will kill the time in meantime.**

**Until then,**_** j'irai me prendre une cuite dans un bar à payday.**_

_**Hazel.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, remember when I said two months for the next update? I lied. **

**Turned out I needed a little more but hey! This one is the longest I've ever written. It was supposed to be much longer but I decided not to cross the path of the 40 000 words (that would have been the case.) So don't complain. =) Please.**

**I have a question though; does the length of the chapters bother you? Is it too long? Please tell me I'd like to know. Not that I can do anything about it though, it's hard to fit everything I want in less than 10 000 words but I'm aware that long chapters can be somehow boring, so let me know.**

**As always I'd like to thank the reviewers, you're awesome guys I get all happy each time I have a review. Thank you for the readers and those who put Legato in their favorites/alerts, thank you for taking the time to read, I'm still amazed knowing that a lot of people read and actually **_**enjoy**_** the story, wow.**

**Apologizes for the typos.**

**Tamao makes an appearance here, Enjoy!**

**I don't own Strawberry Panic!**

* * *

**Legato**

**by Hazel Liebovsky**

* * *

Chapitre Trois

"I would kill to squeeze them, they look so soft," a man said.

"Do you think they are real?"

"Of course they are, look! The way they're shaking! They can't be fake," the same man answered.

"Hey, hey, you guys know nothing!" a third one entered the conversation, "Look at her ass! Damn, look!" And the three of them stared, completely mesmerized.

"Dudes, you're drooling," a woman muttered and received death glares until popcorn reached one of them in the eye.

"For God's sake, would you focus please?" Another woman scolded. "Though," she added "I would not mind to have her hair. See how silky and long it is!" she smiled dreamily.

"Do you think it's her real color? I mean, maybe she dyes it!" a third one whispered.

And for the umpteenth time this evening, the video stopped itself and sighs of despair could be heard among the musicians. "Would you please stop that, Isis? It was just getting interesting!" One of them whined.

"Sure I will," a deep feminine voice answered, "The day you will stop make it seem like we are all watching a porn," she rolled her eyes, "Come on guys we are watching a concert. A. Damned. Concert. Get a grip on yourself. You should go out more you kn—hey! Who the hell threw this?" Isis took the pillow and scanned the room but did not find the responsible. She took a serious face even if no one could see it as the lights were off to watch TV better. "Guys, it's serious, please focus on her hands and her face. We don't have enough time to fool around and I am certainly not going to translate her every two minutes because one of you missed something." They nodded. But it did not mean that they would do as told. The video started and whispers as well. Until it stopped again. Isis pressed the replay button. Again. And again. And again.

"Hey stop that!" A musician said, "My retinas hurt!"

But she did not listen to him and kept doing it. "I knew it!" Her outburst startling everybody in the room, "I knew it!"

"You knew what?" someone asked.

"The smile!" The video was paused on an image of Shizuma's face the screen played in slow motion until a glimpse of her white teeth appeared. Isis smirked like a kid. "That is how she makes the music start."

"What?" Leslie said sitting on the floor and leaning back against the couch.

She looked down at him stopping her strokes on his hair. She has always loved to do that, "No exaggerated gestures. Her indications are very discreet, almost imperceptible for the public. Look." The video played again and Isis paused on an image showing the conductor making a small sign with her left hand. "This means 'add more puissance' or 'play louder', and this," the video played and paused no longer after on Shizuma lifting her index and middle finger up, "this means 'mark the measure', you get it?"

Silence filled the room. Looks directed toward Isis. They were all staring in awe at their concertmaster.

"How do you know that?" One asked.

"I'm just so damn good!" She replied without missing a beat, a huge smile on her face. True she was a great observer, her years as a beauty salon's employee molded her eyes and she could catch a lot of things people don't usually notice. But that was not the only reason. What she did not tell them is that Isis rented DVD's and had spent her week end watching Shizuma's concerts to get accustomed to her way of leading. Thus she caught and learned a lot of several gestures, each one meaning something different. The only thing she did not catch was how the woman could make her orchestra start without even a move of her baton. That was until she caught the smile. "You know," she started scolding them, "I heard each orchestra that played with her had at least four months of preparation when they would watch videos and get her tricks before she comes. Four months. We have only one, so guys, really now I am asking you to be serious."

The video played again, in silence this time. _A month..._ those two words played in her mind as she watched the screen. Isis had already started to feel anxious, and this kind of stress was a double-edged knife. Either it could turn in something stunning, or froze you on the spot. _And with my luck I will get the latter. Obviously. _What consoled her a little bit was to see that their conductor was in the same state of mind. Of course it was not very noticeable but she did catch some hints. The way she seemed to lose her patience more easily for example was a clue. Shizuma did not shout and it was a pleasant change for all of them who were mostly used to conductors who seemed to be under amphetamines. She did frown nevertheless, and the more the date of the concert was approaching, the more she frowned. Her voice was sweet, always smooth and deep. But her eyes betrayed her nervousness. Isis noticed it because she was in the front, not far from Shizuma's music stand. Truth be told, it made her smile as the conductor always put a lot of efforts in hiding her state of mind by dint of smiles. It worked. But not with the concertmaster. The smile was a little too wide to be true. The baton outstretched just a little too much. Her gestures brisker instead of the swiftness they usually have.

Shizuma Hanazono was definitely nervous. And Isis liked it. _The greatest maestro is still a simple human after all. _She took a handful of popcorn when the pot arrived to her.

* * *

Her hand was on the door knob when something interrupted her. "What?"

"How about a trip?" Nagisa repeated with a wide smile.

"A...trip...like now?" Shizuma looked at her, bewildered.

"Yes! This week end for example! My finals are over and I know that you are tired. I thought a trip would be a good thing..." her voice lowered a little, "...for both of us...you know..." she started to play with the hem of her shirt. Feeling uncomfortable under the older woman's stare. Just like back then, in Astrae.

_Is she serious? _Shizuma frowned. This girl was definitely out of the reality. She softened her look a small moment after. Nagisa was right nevertheless, she was tired. And getting angry now would be pointless; she needed her energy for something else. Tossing her keys on the table she walked toward the red head, circled her waist with her arms and put her head on the younger woman's shoulder. "Thank you," Shizuma whispered a moment after, making Nagisa tighten her embrace. "Thank you", she repeated "I would like that," she kissed her forehead smoothly. "But, not now." Pulling back, she noticed the sad expression on her partner and smiled sweetly. "Nagisa," her voice was low, "I cannot afford to relax now. No matter how much I would like to. They are counting on me." Plus Nagisa and relaxation were not really going together. But as always she would not tell her that.

The other nodded slowly. She knew Shizuma loved her job. But she had just that hope, that hope that maybe, oh maybe she would be chosen over it. Just one time. Just this time. "I understand." And she was understanding. She has always been, since the first time her partner had gone away. At the thought, she tightened her embrace even more. _Don't leave me Shizuma...please don't._

Sensing that something was wrong, Shizuma reached for Nagisa's chin with her index and thumb, and looked at her in the eyes. _There are so many feelings...so many...in your eyes...love...and pain._ She kissed her, on the lips. It was gentle, sweet, tongues dancing slowly with each other, following an already too much known pace. The younger woman pulled back after a while, remembering that the other was already late. She knew that Shizuma did not like to be late. "You should go" she said faintly.

The older woman did not let go of the embrace, she leaned in, to Nagisa's ear "After the concert." Pulling back, she saw the puzzled expression on her partner's face and repeated, "After the concert, let's make that trip," she smiled when the younger's face lit up. "At night, just when it's finished. Choose the destination; we will go as soon as the concert ends." She smiled sweetly. _Try... Shizuma try...just this time,_ she was saying to herself. Yes try. Go on and feed the illusion that everything is going well.

After one last peck on Nagisa's lips, she left the house.

-0-

Reaching the concert room's door, Shizuma heard...nothing. Strange. It was silent. Usually there would be laughs chats, music... there would be _something_. She had grown to know the musicians, and there were not the silent type. Not at all. She entered in the room discreetly to see what was going on.

"...ve got only ten seconds left. Hurry up." Isis was standing on the dais in front of the musicians. The conductor's place. _Her_ place. "...five seconds..." she said, and Shizuma could feel the smile in her tone. She leaned her back on the wall and stared at the scene in front of her. "Time's up. Your answer?"

A male musician that the conductor spotted as clarinet number one was shaking on his seat, eyes drifting everywhere trying desperately to disappear from Isis' glance. Dead silence all around the two of them.

"Your answer?" The concertmaster repeated louder this time.

The clarinetist glanced at his fellows but they gave him the same blank look, his eyes drifted back to the woman in front of him, "I...um...well...," he started with a shaky voice "End the movement? Maybe? Or not?" He groaned, "Hell, I don't know!"

Women laughed. Men sighed. "That makes us...ten to nine." Isis said, "Guys, you have the greatest honor to pay us the restaurant's bills." Female musicians clapped in their hands while males were throwing death glares at the clarinetist. "Now get serious and all because the maestro wi—"

"The maestro is already here." Shizuma cut her and walked to the stage removing her coat and tossing it nonchalantly on a seat. She loved entrances like that, when she was startling everybody. The concertmaster turned toward her and the older woman was finally able to see. Isis was doing a sign with her left hand. A sign she knew by heart. When climbing onto the stage she looked at the clarinetist. "This means _Allegro_, my dear," she gave him a tempting smile and for the next five seconds he was lost in her gaze. _Good, _she thought. It was refreshing to know that she still had effect on people. Though, it still irked her that this effect did not seem to reach everyone. A _certain_ someone particularly. She frowned, lost in her thoughts. _How can she do that?_ No one was able to fight more than two months against her, um, seductive _aura,_ without showing any sign of weakness. Nagisa did not last three weeks. And Kaori? A month and half. It was impossible. This woman was impossible. Everything about her was impossible.

Fingers snapping before her drew Shizuma out of her dozing. "Let's start?" Isis looked at her quizzically while getting off the dais.

She nodded and let the musicians to get ready. "Everybody is tuned?" The conductor smiled when they nodded. "Good."

Shizuma waited for Isis to settle. Her violin case was on her seat; she took her instrument, the music stand with the partitions and positioned it on the left not far from the dais to face the musicians as well and her section especially. It had surprised her when they first started to practice together, usually the concertmasters she had worked with sat with the violinists, in their section. And if they had indications to give they would turn around and talk with the musicians. At least that was how it always worked with others. But again, Isis was not like the others and Shizuma noticed it...she knew how to take them, how to make the violinists follow her and solve the problems before the conductor had to stop the music. And the older woman liked that. _She is talented..._ Yes she was. And the woman did not regret her choice, or their choice to be more precise. Even if...even if she knew that she could not have her.

Yet.

Because Shizuma was determined. And stubborn. A month had passed and she had to admit that they were getting along pretty well. Musically speaking. But Isis stayed very professional with her, even when they were working together alone in a room. Alone. Together. In a room. She sighed. Sure she liked challenges, but this girl, this girl was not a challenge. She was Hell. There was no other explanation. Hell. Satisfied with her thoughts she glanced at the Hell in question who nodded to let her know that she was ready.

"Good," Shizuma ran her eyes over the orchestra. "Today is Triumphal March, yes?" They nodded as she lifted her arms slowly, and when she smiled, the trumpets started to play. _Strange..._she thought, usually she had to make a proper start with her baton and all. But she continued nevertheless, it was good that the musicians finally adopted her way of leading. After all, the concert would be in a month. _A month..._almost nothing to say the truth. The music continued and her hands started to play their own dance as they always had.

_Good._

_strings...louder...yes like that._

Her eyes started to shut themselves and she let herself drown in the music, completely giving in.

_Careful with the tempo...woodwinds follow the brass..._

_Louder trumpets...louder, again._

The claps of the percussion did not draw her out of the trance she was in; it just warned her that the finale was close.

_Keep it...yes keep it like that..._

Trumpets played louder, interspersed by the percussion, it was the grand finale. A last clap and the music stopped. _Good._ A smile spread Shizuma's face, _very good..._ and she relaxed a bit before opening her eyes again. When she did the conductor saw that the musicians were grinning. She nodded to them.

"It was very good," and she meant it. She could feel the progress they have made together and she felt that the weight on her shoulders loosened a bit. Finally they could make it. She lowered her head to Isis. "You trained them?"

"I did," she answered a little smile playing on her lips as well. "It is great opportunity to show our value." She was referring to a certain article read two weeks ago by Philip where an orchestra manager was literally shooting down the London orchestra because of its youth and inexperience, asking Shizuma to gather her spirits and play with his. All the faces darkened at the thought, the older woman's as well. "I just hope that guy will be here when time comes," Isis added with a cold voice.

"So do I," Shizuma muttered, looking at the musicians _So do I_, she repeated in her head. "Let's start again," determination was printed in her tone. They nodded briskly, and music filled the room again.

-0-

Slow breaths filled the room. This and the noise of pens scratching against paper. Concentration. That is what the scene conveyed.

Or at least, one of them was focused.

Because the other…well the other was again very _busy_ ogling at the woman, rather shamelessly. Shizuma let her eyes wander on her as they have always done when they were alone in a room. Alone. Together. In a room. She sighed internally, gaze glued to her… _I have to make her spea—_

"Would you please stop that?" Isis' voice preceded her thoughts. She was still writing, not bothering to stop and look at Shizuma in the eyes, which bothered greatly the conductor to say the truth.

"No I won't," she answered, a small smile making its way to her face. _That's it! Speak my dear, talk to me…_ it was not a known fact but Shizuma's voice could do miracles, as much as her eyes or… her hands for that matter.

Isis lifted her head and looked at her. Annoyance was clearly visible in her eyes. This and…amusement as well. She would keep that for herself of course, but turning the greatest Shizuma Hanazono down did wonders to her ego. A sort of guilty pleasure. She stared at her a little bit more, mostly to make it clear that her hypnotic gaze had no effect on her, and then returned to her task.

Shizuma released a small sigh. Breaking the ice between them will not be an easy task. Sure things were different when they played. There were smiles, chats and looks. But as soon as practice was over, a tremendous wall separated them. Though, from a more professional point of view she had to admit Isis did the right thing. From a more professional point of view only. But again, where was the fun if you could not fool around with your colleagues? One last glance to the concertmaster and Shizuma focused on her work. Or at least tried.

Hours later, they both had admitted that hunger was dangerously digging their stomachs. Well one would admit it. The other was surrounded by such a pride that she would prefer to eat her hair before admitting such a… a… trivial desire to someone else than Miyuki or Nagisa. It was so banal! And she was not. Isis stretched herself on the seat as she glanced at Shizuma. A smile appeared on her features as she observed the_ very_ focused conductor. _That does not work with me, Hanazono… _she noticed the light frown on her forehead too…_she needs glasses…_

"You need glasses," Isis voiced her thoughts.

And as she expected Shizuma's head snapped up a little too briskly a sign that she was not really paying attention to the partitions before her. "Excuse me?" she said softly.

"You need glasses, Hanazono." The concertmaster repeated.

Knowing perfectly that lying would be pointless, the other woman nodded slightly. "Indeed I do. I just keep forgetting about them in fact," she laughed a little bit. Admitting this to someone other than herself was a great change for her. It felt weird.

Isis nodded as well and took her wallet in her purse, "I am going to buy some food," she said as she reached for the door. "Is a pizza fine with you? I can ask for cutlery if you want," the woman added with light sarcasm, a grin of her face.

"Pizza is fine." Shizuma answered simply not bothering to respond to the last comment. And when she left, the conductor could not suppress a sigh of relief. Hard. It was getting hard to keep her façade with Isis. And this irritated the woman greatly. How was she able to act so nonchalantly with her and yet talk to her like she already knew everything? Shizuma felt dangerously _naked_ under her gaze, and it was no good. She could not let that happen. Sure she wanted to have the girl, but not if it meant to let Isis have _her. _This game with her was dangerous.

But so very exciting.

_Who will surrender to whom my dear? _She smirked._ Do you really think that you have the upper hand on me?_ Shizuma frowned…_or maybe…_ or maybe Isis was making her think that she had the control just to make her way silently elsewhere. She chewed on her bottom lip nervously…_it is a plausible explanation though… or may—ow! Migraine…_ Shizuma shook her head and took a piece of chocolate on the table to calm down and ease the pain. _She is complicated…_the woman thought while chewing slowly the food.

Shizuma was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice Isis coming back until the scent of the pizza reached her nostrils. She turned her head to the violinist who cleared the table from papers before putting the food on it. "Hope you don't care, I took the simplest. Not that I care about your tastes anyway, but the guys would throw me out if they thought that I let you starve," she explained while sitting.

Shizuma only smiled, and when it hit her, her face puzzled. "They would throw you out?"

The concertmaster glanced at her blankly as she took a slice of pizza. "You are our maestro. _They_ care about you," she said as if it was obvious, emphasizing the word to make it clear that it was their state of mind and not hers.

Well, it would be obvious for other people. But to the older woman it was not. Of course, when she was still a guest conductor or even a pianist solo, managers always cared to fulfill any of her desires. She was treated like a princess back then. Having a room in the most luxurious hotels. Private access to some good restaurants. And of course! Of course, a private music room with nothing else than the best piano they could find. Yep, she had all that back then.

And now here she was, in a simple room, eating a pizza with the most irritating yet the most talented violinist concertmaster she has ever heard. And it brought a laugh to her. She burst in laughter, not being able to stop herself and not caring to do so. It was so ridiculous! But it felt so right. Back then, when she was a guest, she did not care about any musicians, even those with whom she had a more_ intimate _contact, and chances are that it was the other way around as well. And now, now she even knew their names! Their names! She laughed hard again feeling a light familiar pain in her belly. God, it felt so good, how long has it been since the last time she laughed like that? An eternity. Definitely too long.

On a chair, Isis was contemplating the scene. Impassive. "Whatever is it that you take, you have to give it to me. Looks fun," she said when Shizuma regained a little composure. But the comment made the conductor shake in giggles again as a huge smile split the younger woman's face.

She wiped a tear from her eye and took a long breath to calm herself down. "I take nothing," she said, the laugh clearly identifiable in her tone.

"After what I have just witnessed?" The other quirked a brow. "Let me just doubt it."

"Oh, where is the ever charming manicurist I have met two months ago, hm?" Shizuma sighed dramatically, taking a slice of pizza and secretly hoping that the use of the word charming would have an effect on her interlocutor.

None.

Isis' eyes widened and a sad expression appeared on her face, "I'm sorry," she said with an over worried tone. "But I have forgotten my smile in my locker at work," she smirked.

Shizuma chuckled again. It was so refreshing sometimes. "You still work at the spa?" She asked as she took another slice of pizza. She _was_ hungry and made no effort to hide it this time.

"Only part time now," the concertmaster nodded. "Because _you_ are exploiting me."

"Am I?" Shizuma's eyes were sparkling, her cheeks blushing lightly from laughing too much.

Isis nodded, smiling at the sight. "Forcing me to work late at night." She pointed the window to prove her point. "And I should add, sexual harassing me as well. I can get a bonus for that, don't you think?"

The conductor's face darkened at those words and she glanced at the woman's wedding ring. That was too bad! "Don't you have a husband to bore with your stories?"

She was completely taken aback by the question. "A what?"

"A husband," Shizuma took a wipe in her purse to clean her hands. Working tool. "You know, the hairy thing you use to pop up children.

An image of Kong flashed in Isis' mind at the word hairy. _Ugh…go away!_ She made a face, much to Shizuma's delight. "No," she answered, the tone unusually low, almost painful.

The older woman noticed the change, but made no comment. "Then why the ring?" Indeed. Why would you wear a wedding ring if you were not married? That was ridiculous! She remembered that she offered one to Nagisa three years ago. Or maybe two, whatever. It was not a wedding ring of course. Or at least not to her. It was just something couples have to do, right?

Isis glanced at her left hand spotting the golden circle. "Oh that! A light laugh, she started to twist it with her thumb absent mindedly. "I forget it's here sometimes." Shizuma gave her a puzzled look and the violinist went on. "Look, this ring works as a repellent. Everybody thinks I am married and like that I'm not bothered at work. Understood?" The other nodded. "Though," she added. "It seems it has no effect on a _certain someone_," Isis emphasized the last words as she took a piece of chewing gum in her purse.

"I do not care about such…" she trailed off, searching for a word, "trivialities for the sake of my lust. It is a rule." Shizuma replied. The violinist waved the little box, silently asking her if she wanted one. She nodded and took the candy. It was red. _Strawberry…? _She chewed it slightly. _No…not strawberry…_ but it was too late. The pain started at the tip of her tongue, and soon enough spread to the entire mouth, she swallowed but realized her mistake when the stinging pain reached her throat like small knifes. _Pepper? _She felt heat increasing in her body making its way to her head where Shizuma could already feel the blush on her cheeks. Her features contorted in pain. _No…no, it's ci…cinnamon!_

She could not take it anymore.

Tossing aside years of practice of good manners in two seconds - including her years at Miatre - she spat the poison on the pizza box and coughed violently, trying to catch her breath. Spotting a bottle of water on the table she literally threw herself on it gulping half of its content. Water appeased the stinging pain but the taste stayed in her mouth. When Shizuma regained a little composure, she glared at Isis. The said girl looked back, bewildered. She burst in laughter after a few moments unable to hold herself anymore.

"Oh my God!" She said between giggles. "I should have recorded it!" She was shaking in her seat, barely able to stay on it.

Shizuma hardened her glare but it only made the violinist laugh harder. _I guess I am not that impressive anymore after what just happened…_she thought. And then, then only she realized something. Isis was laughing. Isis was…_laughing._ She had already heard her laugh, from away. Never this close. Never like that. The conductor decided that she liked it. Definitely. She softened her look and shook her head, feeling her lips twitching up.

A moment after, giggles faded and Isis glanced at her watch. "It is getting late," she looked back at Shizuma. "If you may excuse, but the simple mortal that I am..," she pointed the ring, "…and the triviality need to go." A glint passed through the conductor's eyes at those words but a cold glare prevented her to voice anything as the other caught the hint. "The deal is still up, Hanazono" she said with a low voice.

The woman sighed. "You should allow me this one. Do I need to remind you that you just tried to kill me with… with this thing?" She pointed the half chewed murder weapon on the table.

Isis chuckled and put her coat, taking her case in the way. "No I won't." When reaching the knob she turned around to face Shizuma. "Goodnight," was all she said before leaving the smirk glued on her features.

She released a sigh when she was alone. Not of relief this time. Shizuma was…content. Yes that is it. Content. A gentle smile spread her face as she realized it was the first civil conversation not related to music that they ever had.

* * *

Isis walked to the exit door while buttoning her coat. Winter had settled its quarters on the city, catching a cold now would surely not be a good idea. She was focused on her task not paying attention to where she was going when she bumped on something. Or rather someone. The woman caught her balance in time but the other had not this chance and violently fell on the floor.

"Oh my…" the violinist walked to the figure on the ground. It was a woman. A woman with red hair. Isis outstretched her free hand to her. "I'm sorry. Are you alright?" She said with a worried voice.

"I-I'm alright. Sorry," the girl accepted the hand and the concertmaster helped her to get on her feet. "I am sorry," Nagisa repeated, looking away. "It was my fault. I-I was not paying att—" She broke there unable to continue when she made eye contact with her interlocutor. _Woah…those eyes… those blue eyes…she's beautiful. _Nagisa felt herself blushing at her thoughts still staring at her. What would Shizuma say if she knew that, mh?

Isis frowned. _She is dozing off_…she sighed internally _I'm tired_. "May I help you?"

Her voice had the desired effect as Nagisa shook her head to gather her spirits. "Yes. I..um I am looking for Shizuma. Hanazono Shizuma," a bright smile made its way to her face as she said her girlfriend's name.

The woman nodded, pointing a corridor with her chin. "This way, turn to the left and walk straight on," she explained.

Nagisa nodded face puzzled as she looked at Isis and the case in her right hand_. She must be part of Shizuma's orchestra…_she thought_…but, why is she still here?_ A frown appeared on her forehead. _She told me the practice ended at six and it's already half past eight…could it be that they had a private practice together?_ Oddly enough the young woman did not like this idea. Not at all. Nagisa looked at Isis again, and then shook her head. _No…no impossible she would not… I know things are not that good lately but… it's only a phase._ She smiled remembering their future trip. _Right…?_

The violinist looked at her. _She is dozing off again…_ she cleared her throat discreetly and pointed their still intertwined hands. Nagisa's eyes widened and she let go voicing a small sorry. Isis smiled and before she could go, the other woman's attention was drawn to the scarf around her neck. _Odd,_ the red head thought_. It looks like Shizuma's…_ Not odd as it is Shizuma's scarf she hasn't seen for a little more than a month now. Nagisa shook her head again. _No, no it's impossible…she would not…_ she tried to convince herself. _Right…?_

Isis took her leave after waving goodbye leaving Nagisa with her doubts.

-0-

Shizuma frowned when she heard knocking, her lips twitched up. _She must have forgotten something_, she thought. Thus it took all her will not to let the smile drop when she saw that it was Nagisa. Only Nagisa. _Ah, nevermind._

"Good evening, Nagisa," she said as she rose from her seat. She was not expecting her. It was late and she was tired. Her partner only hummed though, still lost in her thoughts about this mysterious musician. And the scarf as well.

The girl ran her eyes over the room. "You already ate?" She asked spotting the pizza box on the table. Strange. Shizuma was not one to eat junk food. Nagisa remembered the time she had to beg and drag her to McDonald's. A smile crossed her face at the thought. No Shizuma was not one to eat these things but she did time on time when she wanted to please her.

The older woman massaged the back of her head to ease the starting pain. "Yes…" oddly enough she was not feeling well to have Nagisa in this room. Even if she did not do anything wrong with Isis, a kind of unpleasant feeling rose in her. "We worked late…" she felt awkward.

Nagisa's head snapped at her. "We?" Though, as much as she wanted, the girl could not suppress the worry in her voice, nor the judgmental verdict there was in it. But it was too late and she realized it when Shizuma's eyes narrowed at her.

"My concertmaster and I worked here. We were both hungry and she suggested to get something to eat," she explained her voice lowering. She packed her things including the partitions for the strings she would have to give tomorrow without a word. Why didn't she have faith in her? Her jaw clenched, but she remained silent. _Breathe Shizuma, breathe_, she was telling herself.

"I…see." _So this woman in the corridor was her concertmaster. _Truth be told Nagisa did not know what a concertmaster was. Things about classical music were unknown to her. Of course she had played piano a while ago in primary school. That was her sole and only contact with this music. And of course there was Shizuma. Who never asked her to come to one of her concerts now that the red head was thinking about it. Pretexting that it would be boring for Nagisa and that she should focus on finishing her studies instead of crossing half of the world for two hours of concert. The older woman did ask her, a while ago when she was still a pianist solo. It was her very first concert as a soloist, organized by the Royal College. Shizuma was nineteen at this time. Nagisa remembered how they both begged the Sister to let the younger woman sneak out of the dorms. The Sister gave in finally, but not before Shizuma promised not to sneak in at night during the week ends. They had a lot of good memories together, Nagisa felt herself smiling at the thought. _But now… how about now?_ A wave of nostalgia passed through her._ I miss us at this time_; she thought_…I miss you… _

Weirdly enough she felt herself suffocating in this room filled by the scent of her girlfriend and the stranger.

"Shall we go?" She said faintly.

This snapped Shizuma from her own thoughts and she nodded slightly as she threw the box in the bin. When she closed the door and walked toward the exit she felt Nagisa's hand shyly take hers and squeeze it. She squeezed back mechanically as her mind wandered to the orchestra. She felt herself smiling, _they have worked hard_, she thought. Indeed they had. She could feel it. Not only they understood her now, even if she did not know it was thanks to their concertmaster harassing them with videos. No, it was not only that. They were also putting much fervor in their music so much _soul. _All of them. It felt like a heartbeat. Each one adding their own to the edifice. A hundred musicians making one and only man. Her eyes lit up. It was the last step.

Now they could do it.

Shizuma shivered when they reached outside. She gripped the collar of her creamy coat in order to prevent the frozen wind to sneak in her clothes. Catching a cold now was not a good idea. Plus her scar—

"Where is your scarf?" Nagisa asked, observing her with the corner of an eye. "Have you left it at home?" She knew Shizuma did not, she just wanted to know if…

_Isis! _The older woman's eyes widened. She had completely forgotten about the scarf and the concertmaster too. She felt her body tense. "No," she said truthfully. This situation was beginning to be awkward. She could not tell the truth to Nagisa. She just could not. She felt it. "I…" _Think, Shizuma! Think! _"...think I lost it." Lame Shizuma, lame.

Nagisa opened her mouth in shock. But her partner did not notice it as they were walking in the dark night. A lone tear made its way from her eye to her chin. "I…see," she said soundlessly. She bit the inside of her lip as she felt her legs going weak and her throat tightening. _Breathe…exhale…inhale…breathe Nagisa…breathe. _When she regained a little composure a shaky sigh came out of her mouth. Only vestige of her internal fight. But Shizuma did not notice.

It was the first time. The first time that she…

_Liar._

* * *

Oddly enough, Shizuma woke up in an unusual joyful mood that morning. And thus she found herself in the kitchen making breakfast for Nagisa so she could eat it in bed. She did not wake her up when she came down. Hence, the worry look on the younger woman's face when she entered the bedroom was quite unexpected. Neither was the glint of sorrow which followed it. But Shizuma kept smiling. She was in a good mood.

"Good morning," she said sweetly. "I thought we could have breakfast here. I did not want to wake you up."

Nagisa only nodded.

_What's going on? _Shizuma's brow quirked. The younger woman looked at her. Those clear orbs filled again by sorrow. A plastered smile made its way to her face. Something she never did. Her smiles were always full of sincerity. Not this one. Not this time. "I… I guess I might be sick."

These were the words Shizuma loathed and feared the most.

Immediately, she put the tray down and rushed to Nagisa, jumping on their large bed and straddling the woman with her legs. The red head chuckled a bit at this sudden rush. A joyless laugh nevertheless. She giggled to prevent herself from bursting into tears at this gesture. At the truthful worried look on Shizuma's face. Not to cry at this hand which was now stroking her forehead sweetly to check if she had any fever. Not to cringe at this touch she had longed for so long, this touch that was now burning every parcels of her skin. _Why…Shizuma…why?_ This sole word was printed in her head. Haunting her dreams. Playing mercilessly with her nerves. Yes. Why Shizuma?

The said woman was still checking her up. She hated those words with all her being. Those words spoken for the first time ten years ago by Kaori. Trivializing her mortal disease into four innocent words not to frighten the young and carefree Shizuma. To explain her with children words, an adult situation. To tell no, that she might not be able to be here next summer and go with her at her summer house again. Not this time. Never again.

She scanned every inch of Nagisa, the hand still on her forehead. She had grown fearful of people falling sick around her since Kaori. She did not care about herself. But she agreed not to let anyone,_ anyone _get ill. She would not be able to take it this time. She might not love Nagisa anymore but it did not mean she was not feeling anything toward her. It did not mean she did not care about her. No, she would not bear it if she ever loses her _that way_. No one else. Not anymore.

"You look pale, Nagisa," distress, yes distress in her tone. It is something that would have comforted Nagisa a while ago. Now it was just adding to her pain. She shook her head the plastered smile set on her features.

"I am fine, it's just…"

"No you are not," Shizuma cut her. "You are going to stay here. You hear me?" She waited for Nagisa to nod. "I will call Philip and tell him I can't go," when the other tried to voice a protestation she hushed her gently, putting her fingers on the lips. "I will tell him I can't go," she repeated softly. "They can handle a day without me." _Isis can train them,_ she added to herself. _She is talented…she capable of handling them. _At this time it did not matter to her that they have less than a month left before the concert, or that Isis was _not_ a conductor but only a concertmaster as for that matter. "I will stay here with you, Nagisa. Just relax…okay? Take a rest," she said sweetly but her voice conveyed determination as well.

Nagisa only nodded. She knew Shizuma was stubborn moreover in this state. The young woman knew that whatever she might do or want, the other would not let her get out of this room. Or the bed. She kissed the red head's forehead before rising from the bed. "I will call him right now" she took the tray and positioned it on the bed. "Here, eat something. I will come back." Shizuma walked to the door, she was going downstairs when Nagisa called her name.

"Yes?"

The girl looked at her and opened her mouth but the words were stuck in her throat. Nagisa shook her head after a while. "Thank you," she managed to say. Shizuma nodded a small smile appearing on her lips. She could not tell her.

Nagisa sighed when she left the room. No she could not tell her. She could not tell her that what she caught was not a simple headache or a cold. That it was an ache which could not be healed by any medicine. A pain coming from the heart. A pain Shizuma created.

The veil started to fall down a little. Showing to the general public what the older woman has been hiding for five years now.

-0-

"Oh, I see. Yes. Yes don't worry about this. I—I will handle it. Yes. Take care of her. Oh, and Shizuma? Take some rest too." Philip smiled and hanged the phone off. A frown appeared a few moments after as he stared at the candy box half emptied by Shizuma on his desk. _Taking care of Nagisa…Nagisa… I see, of course. _She had already talked about her to him, but knowing the conductor's nature he thought she was a one night stand thing. _Seems like Isis came a little bit too late…_he chuckled as his own boldness. "Ah! What a pity," the manager said out loud.

Rushed footsteps could be heard in the corridor. Philip opened his door and spotted the woman walking quickly toward the concert room. "You don't have to rush young lady. She is not coming," he said loud enough to be heard.

Isis' head snapped back at him. She removed a headphone from her ear. "Oh good, I know she's picky on hou—wait what?" She put her case on the floor carefully and started to unbutton her coat. She had run and she was hot now. Ran because she did not want to be late. Their conductor literally worshiped punctuality. She ran. And what did Shizuma do? She did not come.

Philip smiled to her when he felt irritation rising. An idea popped in his mind and a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. _Let's see your reaction, young lady._ "Her… _companion_ fell sick and she decided to take care of her. Just for today though," he said, emphasizing the word to let no room for ambiguity.

No reaction.

Isis gave him a blank look while removing a strand of brown hair from her field of view. Damned hair which always decide to blind her. "Just for today?" She asked putting her coat on her forearm and taking her case again.

Philip nodded, a little disappointed by the reaction, rather, the lack of reaction from his interlocutor. He smiled nevertheless, waiting patiently he started to count in his head, _three…two…one…_

"Wait, wait, wait…" she massaged her temples. "What are we going to do today if she is not here?" The man on the threshold remained silent, the corner of his lips twitched up. Her eyes widened when it hit her. "I won't, Philip."

"Yes you will, young lady. There is no one else," he said smoothly.

"Has it just occurred the both of you that maybe - and I say _maybe_ - I was only a concertmaster?" She asked sarcastically, though she kept it at the minimal level she could. It was Philip after all, and she respected him.

The man nodded the smile set on his face. "It did, young lady, it did. Listen," his face became more serious. "I am not asking you to do her job. Just to um…" Philip trailed off, searching for an appropriate word "…to entertain the musicians _pedagogically_, if I may say," he gave her his best dazzling smile. A habit he took from Shizuma when she wanted something. Isis gave him another blank look and he sighed, defeated. _I guess I am not as impressive as her_, he thought.

"It's impossible," she spoke. "For as I do not have the partitions on me, as she was supposed to give them back to us today. And most importantly, I know nothing about how to lead an orchestra or a damned choir for that matter."

Oh, Philip could argue with her about that. He heard her train the musicians countless of times. Sure she was not a conductor of course. But she had the orchestra's approval and this, this counted as much as being a good leader. Oh, he could argue. But he was a wise man who recognized stubbornness when he saw it. _You won't get away so easily young lady. _"You could prepare her entrance," he said a little moment after.

"Her entran…" Isis sighed. "You planned it from the beginning didn't you?" She tried to look irritated but could not suppress the smile spreading her face. _I'm a fool. Note to self: never play this game with Philip again. Too strong._

The man gave her a mischievous grin. "If you want, I have ideas about what you could play…"

The concertmaster was going to nod when she listened to the music coming from her remaining headphone. A smirk made its way to her features as she glanced at her i-pod's screen. _Perfect! _"I think I know what we're going to play. Do you have a computer?" She asked.

Philip looked wounded at the question. "Young lady, how old do you think I am?" She giggled and he gestured for her to come into his office.

-0-

When Isis entered the concert room, freshly printed sheets of papers in one arm she saw a few musicians packing their instruments. Ready to go. And she did not like the view.

"You." She said to a female cellist. "Sit down, please."

The cellist looked at her and crossed her arms on her chest. "We've been waiting for forty minutes now. It's clear that she is not coming" the woman got off the stage.

She did not want to argue now. The concertmaster tried to be pragmatic. "We need this practice. So, _please_" the word did not come easily and she hoped it would be useful. "I'm asking you to stay and take your seat."

The other woman did not listen to her and walked to the exit. She would have to get through Isis to reach the door. "We do indeed, but the conductor is not here. Who will lead us?_ You _maybe?" She said her voice full of venom. "You? Who fret at the simple idea of playing in front of people?" She knew she touched a sensitive string when Isis' jaw clenched.

That was said. And it hurt. It_ goddamned_ hurt. The hold on her violin knob tightened until her knuckles whitened. She knew it would happen. Quarrels in an orchestra were not so rare. Especially with newbies. Especially when the newbie in question had a higher ranking. She has been waiting for her turn to come; oh, she has been waiting for it. She's been preparing herself psychologically, on how to deal with it. How to pacify the situation. How to avoid a meeting between her fist and her interlocutor's jaw. How not to let her emotions take the path on her. She was prepared.

But it still hurt.

Isis started to chew on her inner cheek. Leslie looked at her from the stage. _Don't do anything stupid Isis…I beg you._ He knew that this sign of nervousness from her was the last step before she would go wild. He rose from his seat but a glance from her prevented him to move forward.

She directed her glare to the cellist her blue yellow eyes emphasizing the glower. And the other looked at her with the same intensity. "You," she said with an unusual low voice. Deeper than normal. "Get your ass in your seat. Right. Now." Her tone sent chill down everyone's spines.

"Or else?" The cellist riposted visibly not impressed by the sudden cold which settled on the room.

Oh-oh! A challenger! The concertmaster would have loved it, in another situation. Not now. Not like that. She knew she could knock the cellist out. With a name like hers, Isis knew how to fight since kindergarten, she had to. And this was exactly what the other was looking for. But… but she was cleverer than her. It was too simple; she would not be fooled so easily. Isis gave her a threatening smile. And _this _had an effect on the woman. She took a step back.

"This has nothing to do with me. Do as you please," The concertmaster lifted her head to look at the musicians. "So this is what you want? She is not here so let's go? She did not bother to come why would we stay? Why would we _work_? Guys, we have the chance…" she trailed off "…we have," she repeated, "the_ honor_ to own one of the best, if not the best conductor alive in this damned world. All of you can testify of it. She chose to lead us instead of more talented orchestras. To be our permanent conductor. And what do you do? What do you_ dare_ to do?" She glanced at the cellist at this moment before looking at the orchestra again. "Let her down like that because she is not here to wipe your shitty asses? I had a higher esteem of you. She has never, ever given up on us, no matter how many times we fucked up." At this sentence, heads started to nod in agreement. "I think you seem to forget something guys. She's a human being. Like you. Like me. And she does have issues, just like everybody. But instead of helping her out the only way we can, the only way we know. You choose to let her down. Let's be a team that you say. A team?" Isis locked her eyes with the cellist. "My ass. You're not a team you're a band of spoiled brats. You don't want to work, it's fine. But don't cry. Oh, don't cry don't even dare to let a tear escape from your eyes when the music critics will shoot us down. Because _I_ will destroy you. Because all that will be said then will be true. _Inexperienced young brats."_ She spat, quoting a phrase from the manager's interview. "You don't deserve her. You don't deserve to be leaded by anybody. Even by _me_." She threw her last dagger to the cellist and walked her way to the stage.

Whispers filled the room as Isis climbed on the dais ignoring them. The musicians looked at each other. Those who had their coat on began to unbutton them. Some sat on their seats while others opened their cases.

_Good…_ she felt a ghost smile on her lips. Oh, she was proud! She would have made the dance of victory if she could. She will, tonight. With Leslie. Isis felt the cellist digging a burning hole in her back but she did not care. She had their approval now. When the female musician thought the hole was deep enough she made her way to the stage as well, joining her seat as silently as possible.

"What do we do then? We don't have partitions," a man broke the silence.

Isis looked at him still smiling. "I know," he quirked a brow and she spoke again. "We will prepare her entrance." She said with a wide grin tapping on the papers. "Here, take those music sheets," the concertmaster waited for the musicians to do as told.

Leslie was the last one to settle on his seat, and his eyes widened when he saw what was written on the paper. "The chorus of Initials BB? You'd not dare would you?"

The woman looked at him. "Of course _we_ will dare," She glanced at the orchestra. "Where's the fun if we can't fool around a little?" The musicians laughed. Sure, this concert will be fun.

With that, the concertmaster started to give her instructions.

-0-

When Shizuma walked to the concert room the following day she was smiling. To tell the truth she missed the place. And most importantly she missed _her_ musicians. Nagisa was feeling better, and she literally threw her out of their house, telling that Tamao would come anyway so Shizuma would not have to worry about her. And truth be told, it reassured the conductor a lot more. Time has passed since Astrae and she had to admit that Tamao, who was now a writer of successful plays and her were getting along…almost well. It still surprised her though.

All began with a comment the younger girl once made about a book Shizuma had read. They started to debate on it, civilly which startled the both of them when they realized they had been talking for more than three hours without throwing a single sharp remark to each other. Thus they discovered that they both had a liking in French literature especially Maupassant, Baudelaire and George Sand. Since then they had been what one could call _friends_. Well, it's not like they liked each other, no. They respected each other. Yes this is it. Mutual respect. She knew Tamao was still longing for Nagisa, and it bothered her at first. Like an irritating stinging pain, it was at this time Shizuma made this abominable discovery.

She could get jealous.

Shizuma Hanazono, Etoile of Astrae, Queen of the Queens, personification of perfection and elegance to her utter horror; surrendered to the deceitful woman, the nymph they call jealousy. She has never been jealous. Possessive yes. But not jealous. Not her, not_ Mademoiselle Etoile_. She was the one people envied, not the other way around. But Tamao had this power, this ability to irritate her by her simple presence. Yes she _had_. But Shizuma grew accustomed to it. Years passed by, the stinging pain faded replaced by a sort of morbid pleasure knowing Tamao desired something that was _hers_. And hers alone; she knew Nagisa would chose her over the younger woman.

At least, for now.

As she reached the door, Shizuma heard music. Only music. No chatting. Ordered music._ Leaded _melody and she frowned. _What is that?_ When she entered and the music stopped abruptly, she saw Isis on the dais again. _Her_ dais, damn it. She was facing the musicians with her arms wide open.

"You want a promotion?" Shizuma asked, walking toward the stage. The tone was not playful though. She sounded like a child whose toy would have been stolen before her eyes.

The concertmaster turned to her, brows quirked. _Possessive much aren't we?_ "No thank you, I know_ your_ kind of promotion," she answered simply, getting off to join her seat.

Shizuma settled on the dais looking at each musician in the eyes. Gratifying them with two seconds of her hypnotic gaze, when it was enough, she spoke. "Firstly I would like to apologize for my absence yesterday. Unfortunately, I had an errant I could not possibly discuss. Please excuse me," she flashed them her brand bright smile looking again at each one to prove her point. All of them dozed off. All? No, because when she reached Isis, the woman stayed impassive, looking back at her blankly. And the conductor did not like it, but made no comment. They had talked well two days ago, why was she still so cold then?

"How can you do that?" Leslie whispered on Isis' left.

"Do what?" She asked, not leaving Shizuma from her field of view. The conductor was now trying her best to ignore her, and heal her wounded ego by the same way. It made her smile.

"You know_… that,"_ he moved his hands pointing the woman on the dais.

"Oh! _That!_" She smirked and Leslie's face lit up. All of them noticed it. The fact that Shizuma's aura did not seem to reach her or the sarcastic shot backs each time they talked together. It was playful, but they all agreed that she was the only one capable of it. None found a plausible explanation and they all stated on the fact that Isis was not human. There could not be another explanation. In fact…Leslie had an explanation. Or he wished it was the right explanation, because if it was, then he could tell her how he felt. A small smile spread his face at the thought. Plus he could hope, after the night they have spent together yesterday. He could…right? Isis seemed to think and he patiently waited for the answer that would change his life. "Don't know. It just happens; maybe it's her hair who knows?"

Or not change his life.

"I…see." His smile dropped and she quirked a brow. Leslie shook his head. "Nothing."

She was going to speak when Shizuma's voice ended their conversation. "Today is the last act, right?" It was the silent signal to Isis to settle. She caught the hint and rose from her seat; giving one last glance to Leslie telling him they would continue this conversation later. The man nodded, smiling a bit to reassure her.

* * *

She looked at the girl sitting in front of her. Nagisa was playing with her spoon absent mindedly, eyes focused on a tart she had slaughtered without eating it. But her friend remained silent. She waited. She has always been waiting in fact. Waiting for a roommate, and when she finally got one she waited for them to become friends. Then she waited for this friend to know her first crush silently praying it would be her. She waited for her to know the first frosts of love no longer hoping it would be her anymore. She has been waiting, yes. Waiting for a special day. Now that it was here, oddly enough Tamao could not get herself to enjoy it. Yes, she has been waiting, and she knew what was going on. It was finally here. But she could not enjoy it.

She ran her eyes over the place. It was more than a simple café to her. It was where she wrote her first play, sitting on those black seats coming from the 50's. It was where she spilled her pain on the paper, the little tables supporting her sorrow. It was where she planted the décor, lights and feelings. Dialogues, cold coffee and a hint of _didascalies _early in the morning. Tangled emotions and a _Paris-Brest_. Yes, it was all that. It was where Broken Embraces was born, where she washed her pain, pouring all her feelings like iced chocolate on a cake, a future best seller. She nodded back when a waiter smiled. Her gaze reached Nagisa again and she waited. As always.

Nagisa looked at her this time. And this joyless smile appeared again. "I'm sorry. I'm not a good company, am I?" It was not a question.

Tamao shook her head. "It's fine," her lips twitched up a bit. An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of them. She wanted to speak, but she could not. She had to wait for Nagisa to do so. Again.

"I think she's seeing someone else," the red head finally said a moment after, in a loud whisper, eyes focused on the spoon. Oddly enough, it was easier to say it out loud that she thought it would be. She did not break down as she imagined she would.

"Nagisa…"

"She…is seeing someone else." The girl repeated, this time to taste the words on her tongue. It was bitter.

Tamao noticed that the grip on the spoon tightened, slowly, she approached her hand to cover Nagisa's. She felt the woman shiver at the contact but she did not withdraw, she reached for the spoon and removed it ever so slowly from her hand. When it was done, she noticed the red marks it left on her palm, like an ephemeral scar. Tamao caressed her hand and finally took it with her own. It comforted her when the other woman welcomed the touch. "Nagisa," she repeated to make her lift her head up. When she did so, Tamao gave her a fond smile. Oh God, how she wanted to hug and kiss her senseless now, right now, to take away her pain, to steal her away from the world itself and hide her. She wanted yes, but she knew Nagisa did not need that for the moment. "Are you sure of this?" The words burnt her throat when they came out.

"I…I…" Nagisa shook her head, how could she explain it? Explain it's not her eyes that have seen something, but her heart. "I mean…she…she's so gorgeous…" Tamao's face darkened at those words. "…that even I…even I…" her voice cracked a little bit and she let out a shaky breath, her grip tightening on her friend's hand. "She had her scarf, Tamao, her scarf." The red head lifted her watery eyes to her. "The scarf I offered her."

She bit her tongue. _Damn you Shizuma! Damn you!_ The scarf. Of course she remembered this scarf. It was in their fifth year at Miatre, winter class time. Nagisa haven't had the chance to say goodbye to Shizuma as the older girl had promised not to sneak in anymore. The young woman agreed with herself that she would get her a forgiveness present, including a night of slow lazy love of course. But she wanted to find her a present. Tamao and she went shopping, not knowing what they were looking for, they browsed around during hours, Tamao's patience was slowly fading away while Nagisa adorned a beautiful smile; she was shopping for her lover. After a few more infructuous hours they both agreed to come back to their hotel, they were on their way when something caught Nagisa's eyes. It was a small shop. She dragged a whiny Tamao in, telling her it was the last one. The very last. An old woman greeted them when they came in, the two of them made their way across the alleys of the small shop filled by a sweet scent of honey and there it was. A piece of tissue carefully folded and packed on the shelf, Nagisa let her fingers hover over it, her eyes widening when she realized how silky it was, almost flowing like water through her fingers, just like Shizuma's hair. Unfolding the tissue she saw that it was a clear brown scarf. No, not brown, sand, yes that is it, sand. Absolutely beautiful. She could already picture her girlfriend wearing it; it suited her perfectly in her mind.

As it suited her when she offered it. It was not a simple scarf, no. It was the very first present Nagisa gave her. And it meant a lot, for the both of them. Shizuma always took great care of it. In six years, there was no mark on it. Not even a little hole, nothing. Absolutely nothing. As if it was still new, no matter how many times she used it. Yes, it meant a lot.

Or so Nagisa thought.

A light squeeze snapped her out of her thoughts, and when their eyes met, Tamao gave her a reassuring smile. She knew how much that scarf meant. Oh, how it would be simple to turn the situation to her advantage. So very simple. Shizuma eased the work for her. To tell her what she really think about their relationship, to explain her, with carefully chosen words that, deep inside her Tamao knew it would not last. That she knew it since this day, this awful Etoile's election, when Shizuma stole Nagisa away. Away from her. She knew it, and, of course she will never, ever admit it, but it was the reason why she let her go. The reason why she did not fight. The reason why she removed this red ribbon from Nagisa's hair and pushed her away. Because Tamao knew, oh she knew that the red head would come back, one day or another. It was carefully planned. The day has come.

But Tamao could not enjoy it.

_I'm a…monster__, a cold hearted monster…_She took a breath, _forgive me…Nagisa…_ "Nagisa," she said sweetly. So very simple. It would be. "You…" So. "…should give…" Simple. "…her a chance to explain herself." She squeezed the woman's hand to prove her point and looked at her in the eyes. Hoping they would not give up on her.

"But, Tama—"

"No buts, please." She cut her gently. "Give her a chance to explain herself before making a decision that would make the both of you suffer." She felt her friend shiver at those words. "I don't know…like, go see her at work, have you ever seen her working?" Nagisa shook her head. She has seen her working in her music room; she had heard her playing piano. But she had never seen Shizuma practicing with her musicians; she could not back when the older woman was still a guest conductor. "Go see her at work, and how she interacts with this woman, only then ask her, Nagisa", she took her chin with her thumb when her friend lowered her head. "Only then, ask her explanations," Tamao repeated. "This could be a simple misunderstanding." She knew it was not. "Don't jump on conclusions."

After a few minutes of thinking, Nagisa nodded slightly. "Fine…"

"Good," the girl released her grip on her friend's hand. "Shall we eat?" She said cheerfully pointing at the excuse of a tart that was agonizing on the plate. The red head laughed a bit at the view.

"I will take a _mille-feuilles_ this time."

* * *

"So?" Isis quirked a brow, arms folded before her chest.

"So what?"

She sighed. They were definitely not getting to the point and she did not have time to play riddles with Leslie. "What was that earlier?"

"What was what?" was all she got and she wanted to yell at him right now. The man sensed the tension rising and tried to dodge a conflict. "Look, you should go. She's waiting for you…"

"She can wait," Isis cut him, narrowing her eyes. "Tell me."

He knelt on the floor, pretending to be packing his violin and carefully avoiding eyes contact. "There is nothing to tell. You should go." He repeated with a low voice, starting to feel angry himself.

"Look at me. Hey, look at me… please?" She waited until their eyes met. "What's going on? The concertmaster said while walking to Leslie, she took his hand in hers when he stood up and stroked it lightly. Tactile. She has always been very tactile. Either in private or in public. It was not zeal of affection, no. Hair or skin, just of question of touch.

He looked at that hand, mesmerized by it. Why? Why had it to be her? It was a question that has been bothering the young man for years, a question remained unanswered since then. "Nothing," he repeated. What could he say anyway? Leslie felt her sighing and a thumb below his chin lightly forcing his head to look at those blue yellowish orbs he has fallen in love with. Again the same question, asked by Isis' eyes this time. He glanced while feeling the hand on his chin making its way to his cheek and Leslie closed his eyes. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted her to kiss him. So much. When the man opened his eyes, he met a small smile. He did not smile back nevertheless. He wanted an answer. An honest answer.

"What am I for you?"

Isis was taken aback by the question and the violinist felt it when her hand withdrew abruptly from his cheek. "Pardon?"

"What am I?" He sounded desperate. _Why haven't you ever answered me?_

The concertmaster passed her hand through her hair, messing it up. Leslie caught the hint and sighed, her body language had no secret for him and this exact gesture meant that he would not get anything. She looked at him. "I…I," stutter. _She never stutters,_ he thought to himself. Followed by a sigh. "Look, Leslie I don't think it's the place to talk about this."

"Then don't ask me what's going on when_ you_ know exactly what the issue is." He spoke with a steely voice. "Stop playing, Isis, we're not children anymore. Stop playing. Stop toying with me, I'm begging you." Again this desperation in his tone. "I can't take it anymore," he whispered to himself forgetting that she could hear him perfectly.

And she did, as her eyes widened. An escape. She had to find an escape. Right now. Things had always been clear between them. It had always been clear on her part: no committed relationship. Friends with benefits that were what they were. What Isis thought they were. Love? Love was out of the equation.

Until now.

"Go away." He said lowly knowing that they were going nowhere with this topic. "Just go."

"No."

Leslie lifted his eyes to her. "Are you going to give me an answer?" He waited a little bit while putting his leather coat on. Nothing happened. "Thought so." Getting of the stage, he took the helmet on a seat which was patiently waiting for him. When he reached the door, the man gave one last glance to Isis, still on stage. She looked completely out of it, fixing a point on the ground. He sighed and left her.

-0-

She was angry.

Goddamned angry.

So angry that it sent chills down Shizuma's spine when she entered the room. Isis made her way silently and sat before the table, facing the other woman. Without a single glance, she took a few music sheets and pretended to be busy with them. But inside her, she was burning. _What the hell was that?_ It was clear. It has always been clear. Why was he behaving like that? Her bottom lip started to bear the brunt of her frustration as the young woman chewed on it mercilessly. _Damn you way to Hell Leslie!_ She did not want to think about it. She did not want to think about him. Love? That was out of the question. No. Definitely not. Why couldn't he just accept what she was giving him already? Affection, caring, food and a few _fun_ nights. Men would kill to have that sort of relationship wouldn't they? Yes they would kill. _He _should be happy with that already. An answer? Why? Why was he asking more? Love? A completely useless thing, an illusion created by men. A chimera. An utopia. Wind. Like falling snow children try to catch up with their tongue without success. Yes love was her snow flake. And she did not want to try to catch it.

"Your thoughts are noisy. Stop thinking or go away, you are disturbing me," a husky voice snapped Isis out of her reverie. "And I'm begging you not to torture your lips like that, it's a waste, and I still haven't had the chance to taste them," when she lifted her head, Isis only met silver hair. Shizuma was still writing, not bothering to look at her. "You are acting like a child you know that?" The conductor added.

"_Stop playing, Isis, we are not children anymore"_ Leslie's words echoed in her head. She hardened her gaze. "Shut the fuck up."

Shizuma froze and stopped writing. It was the first time that someone was behaving like this toward her. Well truth be told she was getting used having many 'first times' with Isis. First time being ignored. First time not getting what she wanted. First time not hypnotizing her with a simple glance. First time hearing such a good musician. And most importantly again, first time being ignored. None could just ignore her like that. But this? No, never. She lifted her head slowly so their eyes could meet.

"I can bear the sarcasm. I actually happen to like it very much," she started sweetly but strongly. "It's better than having anything I want without a little fight. Ignorance? A little less I may say," she put the pen on the table not leaving Isis from her field of vision. "But it is a good stimulation. Now let's be clear, my dear, I do not allow you to override my authority like this, nor to insult me. If you do not want to work just go. I can handle by myself. But, Isis…" her eyes narrowed a little bit. "It's the first and last time that I let you talk to me like this. Understood?" Shizuma shook her head when the other tried to protest. "I know exactly what you are trying to do right now. Let me tell you this will not work," she let a smile appear at those words. "I will not be your punching bag. If you want to wash your frustration away, you can go scream outside. But certainly not on me." Proud of her little speech, the conductor returned to her work. _Seems like I still have a little bit of Etoile in me…_she thought happily.

Silence filled the room. Isis was pouting. Head turned to the right and arms folded below her chest. Everything about her was screaming 'pout' and Shizuma had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from bursting in laughter. She thought about sad things, about her father's death, Nagisa, about Kaori, and Nagisa again, about how she broke her arm falling from a horse when she was nine. But she could not help it and soon found herself shaking on her seat silently, trying in vain to suppress any sounds.

"Hanazono…" the deep voice stated. She could not take it anymore.

Shizuma laughed. With all her being while looking at Isis' distressed features through her amber eyes blurred by tears. She caught her breath when her composure decided to come back, a few moments after. "Sorry," the conductor said wiping a tear. "I just could not help it." But the other woman was still pouting, in full force this time. "Hey, I said I was sorry? Please…? Look at me…?" Complete ignorance answered her and she sighed, returning to her task.

Time passed and Isis eventually focused on the violinists' partitions writing indications about which kind of stroking and when they would have to do it to avoid any fatal confrontation of a bow with an eye that was passing by. From this depended the harmony of the orchestra's overall vision. And thus, she did not hear Shizuma scouring in her purse. The concertmaster worked until she saw a brown little square invading her field of view. "What is that?" She lifted her head to see Shizuma taking a piece of chocolate as well.

"My white flag," the woman responded. "Peace?"

"Do you really think you can buy me with a piece of chocolate?" She said, pointing at the food.

"No." Shizuma answered. "But I can always try anyway," she added, smiling.

Isis chuckled a bit. "You're hopeless."

"I know."

"Just a square? Come on, you could have made an effort don't you think? I think I cost a little more than one and only square of chocolate."

"This I don't know. I have not tried the _merchandise_," her smile widened, "…yet."

Isis swallowed the food and smiled back. "And you won't, darling. But keep trying, they say it's the hunt that worth it."

"The thrill is indeed in the hunt…." Shizuma leaned in her seat, eyes wandering slowly on her interlocutor's body, literally undressing it. "But when one is pursuing such a lovely prey as yourself…" Clothes by clothes. "The price is even better." She ended with a smirk.

"I could suck in bed," Isis shot back, trying her best to hide her discomfort. _Damned eyes._

"You do?" She asked frankly, merely interested.

"Perhaps."

Shizuma seemed to think a little bit, she let a hum after a while. "Although I strangely doubt it, in this case I could always teach you one or two things I know." Her smile was replaced by another smirk. "And I have the impression that you would be a really _assiduous_ student." True. She could always teach Isis her tricks, though she would be careful this time with her, um, knowledge. She did not want to find herself with Nagisa version 2.0. Certainly not.

"Sure, ô Shizuma, Goddess of libertinism may you please open the door of carnal desires for me," Isis said chuckling again. "This is _not_ going to happen."

The conductor's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

She was surprised by the question. "That it wasn't going to happen?"

"No, before."

"Carnal desires?"

Shizuma shook her head. "Before again."

"Goddess of libertinism? It fits you. You cannot deny it," the concertmaster said.

She shook her head again. "You called me Shizuma," pride was printed all over her face and voice.

"I did?"

"You did," the conductor grinned.

"It was just a mistake," she said lowly.

"It was coming straight from your heart."

"Ha! You wish."

And for the very first time, they laughed together. Isis shook her head slightly. She focused on the partitions again when something hit her. "You've done it didn't you?"

"Done what?" Shizuma took her pen, ready to work again.

"Screaming outside."

The conductor's lips twitched up a little bit. "Of course. How do you think I can keep my cool with you all otherwise?" Isis' face darkened at those words. She had to be kidding. They did not suck _that _much…right? On the other hand, this could be the reason why she never shouted at them. "I'm kidding dear." She released a sigh of relief that made the other laugh. "No," Shizuma went on. "I used to do that in high school in fact. You should try. It leaves you all numb, a kind of awfully pleasant feeling," she explained. "It would help you to kick your frustration out after what happened with the cello yesterday," The woman added delighting herself in Isis' surprised expression. "I have my sources…" she answered the unasked question, a mysterious smirk playing on her lips. "Don't underestimate the power of a single smile added to a name…"

Isis huffed. "That is, when you actually remember the name." She cut.

Shocked, Shizuma sat still in her seat. "You are being mean, my dear. I'm doing great progress in learning all of your names," she replied in a not so fake pouting tone. Actually she was slightly offended by the statement, even if it was the truth. She has always had issues with names. It was stupid. Names were stupid. Not her fault.

The other woman seemed to think bit. A mischievous glint made it through her blue yellow eyes and she leaned in, her elbows on the table, fists supporting her chin. Her interlocutor unconsciously mirrored her gesture. She darted her eyes on Shizuma, the corner of her lips twitching up and the dimple on her cheek fluttering in a _too much_ seductive way as her glance reached the conductor's. Isis looked as the feline gaze lowered from her eyes to her lips. The corners of her mouth coming upward a little bit more.

_How tempting. Torturously tempting. _

Shizuma was mesmerized. Unconsciously hypnotized, she leaned in. "You…" the voice started slowly dropping two octaves, drowning her even more in the bewitchment. "…Want to taste my lips?" Isis opened her mouth slightly when she saw the woman nodding a little, almost imperceptibly. "I will let you…" Shizuma's eyes were already lighting up. "…If you give me the name of clarinet number three," she ended smiling, leaning in slow motion, the sparkle of playfulness not leaving her eyes.

"Sure…clarinet…" Shizuma started, completely dozed off as she saw those lips approaching. "…Number…three…" Let's see…Julie? No, it was the trumpet. Then Laura?...No not Laura…it could not be Laura. Mary? The conductor scrolled all the names she knew in her head, but it was getting more and more difficult to think straight. _Alice…_ the name popped up. "…Alice…" she voiced her thoughts in a low tone, full of desire.

And when she saw those lips parting slowly, still approaching, her mind shut. She felt the other woman's breathe tickling her lips, inviting her to close the distance between them, dodging her when she tried to do so. Her eyes half closed, she let the woman come to her, Shizuma was going to surrender. To finally give in to what she has been dreaming for months when…

"Wrong," Isis whispered soundlessly, lips almost touching hers.

Then, before the conductor had the time to register what has been said, she withdrew abruptly, looked at the still spaced out Shizuma, giggled at her face and left the room quickly.

Her eyes were still heavy with desire when she crashed to reality a good ten seconds after. _What was that? What has just happened?_ This…this…and then she…they…? Wait…they were going to kiss? They were going to kiss damn it! Shizuma decided she just hated this woman. Now right now and she would hate her until the day of her death. How could she? How dared she? Doing all this and then, and then…God. _Have I just been tricked?_ Yes you have. Shizuma did not like this idea, not only she was resisting her now but the conductor was awfully turned on. She lifted her head to the door, narrowing her eyes at it. _You will pay…_she thought her lips curving upward.

On the other side of the door, Isis sighed. _Oh my God…that was close._ Indeed, she nearly gave in, forgetting all that was indeed a joke. And what a joke! She giggled as she walked toward the bathroom, waving her hand to her face in order to ease the heat. Philip gave her a suspicious look when they met.

"You are all red, young lady," he said skeptically.

"Oh? Am I?" She touched her cheek lightly feeling the heat through her skin. _Indeed…_she thought. Maybe she underestimated the power Shizuma had on her. It was worth it anyway. She giggled again remembering the conductor's face. Her slightly parted lips, her half closed eyes, completely intoxicated, her giddy face when she left her…Isis shook on her feet barely able to keep her balance. Philip looked at her again, a quizzical expression on his face. "Nothing," she replied shaking her hand at him when she was able to regain some composure. He nodded, still suspicious and left her.

The man was reaching his office when he saw an all flustered Shizuma coming out of the room she was working in. She looked left to right, walked to a direction, stopped abruptly taking another corridor, before walking back and choosing another direction. She looked completely lost. He waited as she disappeared in a corridor. _What was that?_ Shaking his head he entered the office.

* * *

Three weeks passed. Three weeks during which each one grew stressed as the famous day was approaching, slowly but surely. Everybody was desperately trying to fight the rising stress in their own ways. Some would play the opera again and again until their fingers; tired by such gymnastics would give up on them and become numb. Others would try to forget about it completely and relax in a pub in company of friends, or even a lover. Some again would clean their instrument, out of stress until they could see their face on it.

No need to say that they were all nervous.

Shizuma as well. Well, she's always had that pang of stress a few days before a concert. This has always been at this critical time that tons of questions were mercilessly popping up in her brain already full of worries. What if they could not make it and she had overestimated their capacity - and incidentally hers by the same way- what if she doesn't lead them correctly and end up messing everything, what if _they_ end up messing everything and her biggest fear: what if she falls on stage.

She would kill herself, definitely.

Being bold and interrupting a ceremony for her sole and only selfishness was something. Something she would certainly do again if she had to. But _falling_ on stage while climbing on or off her dais? No. Out of the question. The end of the world can happen, she did not care, but there is no way, _no way_ that Shizuma Hanazono would fall on stage. Never. Don't even think about it. _We would not like to be as clumsy as Nagisa, now would we?_ It's with this joyful thought that the woman made her way to her wardrobe, to choose the tux she would have to wear in two days. Tux. A tux. She has always hated tuxes. Why the hell did she have to wear one anyway? It was…it was so manly! So…so…

_So butch. _She made a face.

No. Definitely not. She was not a butch, not even a slight _butchiness_. Shizuma has always valued her femininity. It was something she has always treasured. She just could not picture herself acting manly like…like… _Amane._ This said, she sighed in relief. She liked pretty things, women, clothes, women, sexy cars, women, haute-couture, women and shoes. Oh, and women. Now, imagine her distress when she understood that no, women could not lead in a woman suit and yes, she would have to wear a tux. This was the only thing she regretted from her career as pianist solo, back then when she could wear those beautiful dresses which made her reputation as much as her talent. She would have to thank Chikaru when she got the chance to see her. _It's been quite a long time,_ she thought. Almost a year now that Shizuma was thinking about it. _I wonder where she is…Paris maybe? _The fashion week was over since a long time but she knew her friend has settled her quarters in this city. She was still coming back though.

Since their time at Astrae, she and Chikaru always stayed in touch. It did not surprise her when the younger woman decided to apply for a fashion design school when she graduated from high school, after all the costumes she made for Carmen back then were beautiful and Shizuma encouraged her in this way. When her reputation started to build itself in the community, she had expressly asked Chikaru to imagine her outfits, from the dress to the shoes. This little boost was greatly welcomed and as Shizuma's notoriety gradually increased with time, Chikaru became more and more popular until she reached the pinnacle two years ago and was recognized as being part of the closed circle of the best fashion designers. Shizuma smiled at the thought, remembering how her friend lost all composure and screamed to death in her workshop. It was the first time she has seen her in this state. _She deserved it_… Indeed she did. She smiled.

Shizuma took one of the many tuxedoes she – unfortunately – had. The only thing that consoled her a little was that it was Chikaru who made them. All of them. She chuckled lightly remembering how she stormed in the younger woman's workshop in London completely distressed almost three years ago. Yes that's it almost three years. How her friend consoled her knowing Shizuma's aversion for this kind of clothes since a bad experience she had with a female conductor back when she was still a soloist. This…_woman_ sent her lubricious sidelong glances during the whole practice time. _Ew._ Of course she liked those kinds of looks, she has always liked them. But not when it was coming from someone Shizuma was not even able to put a gender on. It was an it. That's it. An it. What was its name already…Marin…Marin A-something. She thought a little bit more, clapping her tongue. _Ah! Alsop!_ She smirked when it hit her. Yes, Marin Alsop aka the most frightening experience of her life. Shivers traversed her body at the thought.

No, there was no way she would become like…it.

That's the reason why Chikaru spent the entire day taking measures on her and two days after she was ringing at Shizuma's door with a newly concept of tux. It was a tuxedo. But, at the same time, it was _not_ a tuxedo. And the new conductor sensed it when she first tried the clothes. It had, of course, this basic outlines of all tuxes, but it had this fine yet noticeably _female_ touch. The jacket bent on the sides and the pants a little tighter than usual on the hips and thighs. Not androgynous no. Elegantly feminine. An exact portrait of her.

Shizuma smiled when she found out that she took the one with the clear blue lining. Just like…_Just like Isis' eyes,_ she thought. Isis. She would have to make her pay for what happened three weeks ago. And she was right damn it! It was Alice!

She sighed…okay, not so right; her name was in fact Alicia the clarinetist told her when she asked. But seriously who cares about the last letter? She was _nearly_ right! Isis owed her a kiss. And Shizuma would claim it. That was for sure. She was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice Nagisa coming in their bedroom. Said girl who flushed when she noticed that her girlfriend was not decent.

No, because black lacy underwear is definitely considered as _criminal_ when it is wore by Shizuma Hanazono. Every woman could tell you that.

The red head completely forgot why she was coming in the first place eyes glued on her body. "I…um", her throat felt dry suddenly her mind running away from her. Coward.

Shizuma quirked a brow, patiently waiting. It felt good to be looked at in this way. To be able to turn one's insides upside down with just a piece of skin. She had to admit, when it came from Nagisa, it used to have a lot of effect on her as well. It used to be, yes. Now it felt like it feels with her one night conquests. It felt good. Not great. No giddy feelings anymore. She was not turned on by this glance anymore, as lustful as it might be. "Nagisa?"

Her voice had the desired effect as the girl's glance lifted from her chest to her eyes. "Y-yes?" She wanted her now. Right now. Nagisa cleared her throat, shaking her head slightly to gather her thoughts. "I… I was wondering if…, well, if I could go with you today." She sighed internally. Finally, after a few infructuous tries she was able to voice what have been on her mind for three weeks.

Shizuma quirked both brows this time. _What?_ No. She won't allow that. Why does she want to come anyway? Her grip on the hanger tightened. No, no, no. It was their last practice before the concert. The conductor could not allow herself to be distracted by anything or anyone. Let alone Nagisa. Why now? She has never asked before, why now? She would not allow this _intrusion_ in something that was hers and hers alone. Possessive remember? Nagisa did not know anything about this, about her job.

The reason why she loved it so much was especially _because_ it was the best escape she had against her partner. Women…women were nothing, a simple side effect as she always thought of them. They don't last. But Music? It was the last rampart, the only constant thing which prevented her to break down. To turn around and look at her life. To see how messy it was, how she dragged Nagisa in this storm. The only thing that helped her to wash her sins away, to ask for forgiveness. It was the reason why she loved it so much. She could empty her heart through the way she was making the orchestras interpret the operas. There were no façades anymore. It was the only time where she was _naked._ Vulnerable. In full view of everyone. This was why she was acclaimed by the critics. This was why the public literally worshiped every minute of her concerts. And it was exactly the reason why she did not ask Nagisa to come and see her during one of them. Because she knew well. Yes Shizuma knew that at the first notes that would be played she would not be holding back.

And Nagisa would understand she did not love her anymore.

_No._ A voice said at the back her head as the grip on the hanger loosened a little bit. "Why so suddenly?" Shizuma kept her voice calm. She was shaking in fear inside. _No, _she repeated to herself, _I can't._

Nagisa felt the tension rising in the other's body, and it only added to her doubts. The woman would not be reacting like this if she did not have anything to hide. Or, _anyone._ Shivers of apprehension passed through her body but she remained still. She had to stay strong. "Because I've never seen you working before," she said with no stutters this time. "I just… would like to see the place you work in and meet this Philip you talked to me about so many times," managing a sweet smile, Nagisa walked to her. "Meet…the musicians, all that… you see? Now that you are finally here I thought it would be a great opportunity, don't you think?" She took Shizuma's free hand and squeezed it.

_No_, the voice said again. The other squeezed back looking down in her partner's eyes. "Well…it's the last practice before the concert and we wil—"

"I won't disturb you, Shizuma," the young woman said truthfully. She would not, she just wanted to _see_. Silence filled the room as they both locked their eyes together, trying in vain to scan each other's soul. But they never had this kind of connection before, thus all they could see was a blur.

_No,_ it was louder this time. "I…" _No! _It was screaming now. Shizuma glanced at her wardrobe."Fine." _No, it's not fine_. "Let me just get dressed and we will go, alright?" _No, it's not right._

The older woman closed the door of their house behind them that day, as uncomfortable feeling rose in her. The veil started to tear.

-0-

The uncomfortable feeling was becoming more and more persistent as the two of them were walking in the corridor which was leading to the concert room, hand in hand silently. Silence has always been their mutual mistress in fact. Shizuma spotted Philip on their way; he was heading back to his office. As always he greeted her warmly and gave a special treatment to Nagisa who responded with a shy smile. He had agreed to make a little tour of the building with the younger woman when Shizuma would be working in her room after the practice. The conductor felt grateful that he proposed and decided that she would make it up for him one day. Definitely.

When they reached the door, chats and laughter could be heard, as always. It made Shizuma smile. _Some things never change after all…_ she thought. Glancing at Nagisa she sensed the tension in her partner's body as the grip on her hand tightened and loosened periodically. "Are you alright, Nagisa?" The said girl snapped out of her thoughts and lifted her head up, nodding slightly. "Good. Ready?" Nagisa nodded again and Shizuma pushed the door. They walked on the main alley, the older woman untangling her fingers from her partner to unbutton her coat. As always she tossed it on a seat while Nagisa made her way to the third row, sat and started to scan people silently.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen," the conductor smiled while climbing on stage. She was in her element, it felt good. Looking at the musicians she frowned. Something was out. "Where's Isis?"

All the heads - including Nagisa's which followed the movement - turned to Leslie in unison. The man, surprised by the sudden rush of attention blushed widely. "Eh…she told me to tell you that she would be late today. She did not say why though…" In fact she did, but Leslie did not want to tell them. It was private.

"Late?" Shizuma repeated with a low voice and the violinist nodded. She would be late? How dare she? How could she? It was their last practice before the concert and she just decided she would be late? Of course there would be a dress rehearsal but still…the conductor sighed. She did not have time to wait for her, nevermind the concertmaster would have to catch up. Shizuma felt frustration making its way to her body. Nagisa and now this? _Damned day…_she cursed within herself. _Definitely._

Taking a long breath to calm down, she looked at the orchestra. "Everybody is tuned?" Her lips curved up when they nodded. Shizuma turned her head to Nagisa, who was still staring. When their eyes met, the red head gave her a sweet smile. She smiled back and focused her attention toward the people in front of her. "Today we will play all Aïda. From the beginning to the end. Without interruption." She could already see the smiles dropping and hear a few sighs. They have been doing this a lot as it was the last few days. Everybody was getting tired. They just thought she would be soft on them as it was the last practice, and Shizuma understood it. Yet they had to be ready. More than ready. "I know what I am asking from you is hard, but don't forget it's our last practice. As such, I need you to play like you will during the concert. I need to assess your capacity to play the whole opera, understood?" Musicians nodded while others were still busy with their instruments or the partitions. "Good," she let her lips twitching up. "Remember what I told you: no matter how good you play if you don't feel your music then everything you will do will be insipid and awfully boring, just give yourself some slack but stay on track. Flutists, don't hesitate to affirm yourselves a little more. Oh! And play louder doesn't mean bad." Heads nodded again.

Shizuma waited for Isis to settl—well she waited for Isis' spectra to settle. It's crazy how one can easily take habits like this. It scared her to say the truth. One last glance to the empty seat on her left and Shizuma tapped on her stand with her baton. Three times. Not two. Not one. Three. It was one of her many rituals she had done since she became a professional pianist and then a conductor, such as tapping the tip of her thumb with each of her fingers' at least twice with each hand before she went on stage, applying a cream on her hands an hour before the concert to hydrate them, choosing her tuxedo two days before, having at least ten minutes alone in her lodge with lights turned off and so on. She had grown superstitious. Or crazy, depends on who is being asked.

When she felt the glances focusing on her and silence filling the room, Shizuma smiled to let the music start.

They were almost at the entr'acte when Isis entered the room as discreetly as possible. She removed her coat while walking her way to the stage silently. She was going to toss her outfit on a seat of the third row as usual when she noticed Nagisa and caught herself in time. The said girl noticed her as well and her blood froze. _Her eyes are…glowing_, she thought to herself. Isis smiled and sat beside her. "Hi," she muttered, putting her coat and her case on another seat.

"Hello… um"

"Isis," the concertmaster answered the unspoken question.

"For real?" Nagisa spoke before her mind could think.

"For real, yes." She felt herself smiling, usually she would get irritated by comments like this, but Isis was in a good mood. Plus the other seemed friendly. "Though, don't ask me why, I still don't know." _Thank you, Mom…_she sighed internally.

They chuckled silently, when a cold glare froze them on the spot, killing the laughter instantly. Lifting her head up, Nagisa caught Shizuma's eyes and mouthed a small 'sorry'. The conductor softened her look and as soon as it reached Isis it hardened again, in full force this time. The concertmaster looked back blankly. She was late, and so? People can be late sometimes can't they? Plus she had a good reason. A reason which also explained why she was wearing that heart killer skirt that shaped her back side so wonderfully and those heels that made her legs seem to be endless and incidentally made her feet bleed if she wore them too many times, but who cares, they were deadly yes. But deadly beautiful.

Shizuma kept staring at her. They were fighting. Silently but they were, jaws clenched and gazes hardened on each other. No words. Just looks. Fierce glances, as sharp as knives. The conductor was spilling all her frustration through her amber eyes, roughly throwing it at Isis. Finally the violinist looked away, ending this little fight, though it took all her will to suppress the urge she had to stick her tongue at Shizuma. She would not fall in childhood again.

The woman on stage grinned when Isis did so. _I won!_ She refocused her attention on the musicians who didn't notice anything. One of the good sides of being Shizuma Hanazono was precisely multitasking. She could engage a glance war while leading an entire orchestra and thinking at the same time. Yep. All that. A grin adorned her features, she was happy, and thus did not realize that another pair of eyes actually caught the scene.

Nagisa remained silent, looking at the exchange between them. All her fears and apprehension came back, slapping her straight on the face. Even if she did not know that the glances they were sharing had nothing romantic or even friendly, there was such intensity in Shizuma's look when it was directed toward Isis. They were _communicating_. How long has it been since she last looked at her that way? Two years? More? Nagisa did not want to seek an answer. She released a shaky breath, fighting the tears that wanted to come out.

"Are you alright?" The deep voice asked. And when Nagisa turned her head, she met a smile. A smile and worried blue yellowish eyes. Why was she smiling? How could she be concerned by her? It would be so simple if she was a bitch, superficial and mean. So easy, the red head would have a reason to hate her then. But Isis was not. Nagisa nodded, a few moments after. She could not get herself to hate her. She was not like that, she has never been. She always thought that it was a quality in her life, but now she loathed this trait of her personality.

"I'm Nagisa," she spoke, stretching her right hand to the other who nodded while shaking it. Her eyes widened when she noticed the softness of Isis' hand. It seemed so frail and fragile to the touch, as if it would break at any movement. But Nagisa was not one to be fooled easily, she knew more than that. The sweetness was hiding an amazing force, the fragility was in fact a lure to the great power and she could feel it under those slender fingers, just like Shizuma's. She lowered her head to look at the hand. Very well-manicured. Short nails. Clear varnish. _She takes care of them…_Nagisa thought, _just like…._she broke here, unable to finish. Lifting her head, she glanced those blue yellow eyes which were still looking at her. _Why? Why…does it have to be her? _She tightened her grip on Isis' hand a little bit.

"Entr'acte, fifteen minutes." Shizuma's voice snapped the red head out of her thoughts. Sighs of relief filled the room.

Isis untangled her hand slowly and then rose from the seat, taking her case in the way. Nagisa blinked when she noticed what she was wearing. The concertmaster climbed on stage without a single glance toward Shizuma. She put her case on the empty seat carefully and opened it in a dead silence. It's only when she turned around that she noticed Shizuma blinking a few times, eyes glued on her and the musicians staring in awe. She tilted her head to the right. "What?"

Silence answered her until the conductor gathered her spirits and cleared her throat. "You're…" _strikingly gorgeous_ "…late."

"No kidding?" Isis shot back sarcastically. _Why are they staring at me like this?_ She glanced down quickly._ Oh-oh_, she thought as a smile crept on her lips. "I had an appointment, sorry."

"An appointment? For what?" Shizuma was not one to interfere in somebody's private life. But she wanted to know what sort of appointment required Isis to wear such a…a criminal outfit. It was for, um the orchestra's sake, not for hers of course. Absolutely not.

The concertmaster quirked a brow. _Who do you think you are, Hanazono?_ "I caught syphilis, skirts are easier to remove when on the gynecologist's table, don't you think?" She shot back again, smirking when she heard musicians bursting in laughter.

"Of course, it requires you to wear heels as well," Shizuma narrowed her eyes. Actually she was slowly falling in love with the shoes, but she would not admit it.

"A woman must be appealing in all circumstances, this goes without saying." The smile widened. "And I'm a woman, in case you have forgotten it."

"Believe me when I say I have _not._" The conductor repressed the need to roam at Isis' body to prove her point. Nagisa was here after all. She kept her eyes on the concertmaster's with great difficulty though.

This little exchange amused the musicians not to end. "Those two totally want each other," a blonde flutist muttered to an oboe's player who nodded in agreement.

Isis' eyes widened when she heard this and she shot a death glare to the flutist who was startled by the sudden cold she felt around her.

Shizuma shook her head after a while, glancing at her watch. She turned her head to Nagisa, who looked back with an unreadable expression. Shrugging the conductor directed her attention to the people in front of her. "Are you ready?" They nodded and the concertmaster settled at her usual place.

Three shots again. A smile and melodic notes filled the room.

-0-

When she entered the room, Shizuma saw Isis, eyes focused on a partition she already knew by heart. She noticed the violinist's fingers dancing on the table, performing a mute melody on an invisible violin keyboard. A hand on her shoulder snapped the concertmaster out of her trance. She met a gentle smile when she looked up.

"Nervous?" Shizuma's tone was carrying sympathy. Isis' gymnastics reminded her of her own as former solo pianist. Of this desire she had - and still has - to be perfect. It's the eyes that answered her question. "You already know the opera. This will only add extra stress. You should stop," she pointed the paper on Isis' hand, but she could tell her little speech had no effect on the other woman as her brows furrowed. An idea popped up in Shizuma's mind, she took a chair and sat in front of Isis. Close. _Too_ close to the younger woman's taste. "Close your eyes."

"No way."

"Come on, Isis, do it."

"I refuse."

She sighed. "I swear I won't do anything…" she trailed off "…inappropriate," Shizuma glanced at her in the eyes. If only she knew how much it cost her to say those words. "Please, this will help you."

After a long suspicious look, Isis did as told, reluctantly. "I swear that I will scream if you do anything suspicious," she said. "And let me tell you I can scream very loud."

The other chuckled lightly. "I'm sure you can." Shizuma could not help but smile when she saw the concertmaster huffing. "Good, now take a long breath…" she spoke slowly her voice dropping an octave. "Yes, like this… good. Inhale…and….exhale." She took Isis' hands in her own delicately, she did not squeeze them. The violinist's fingers were on her palm, only Shizuma's thumbs were keeping the hands in place, preventing them to fall. "Again, breathe…slo—hey don't laugh! It's serious," Shizuma waited for Isis to regain her composure and relax. After five minutes of breathing in a complete silence, she went on. "Now… I want you to focus on my voice and your respiration, but mainly my voice, okay?" The conductor waited for the woman to nod. "Imagine…that it's the day of the concert. You're picturing the room, the public waiting for you. Where are you?"

"In the back stage, waiting." She spoke with a ghost voice.

"Good. And what do you see?"

"The audience, from the little hole on the red curtain. The musicians on stage…waiting I think."

"Now I want you to picture yourself playing. Play…" Shizuma's voice lowered, little by little. "Feel…" it lowered again. "Live," she whispered the last word as she felt the fingers on her right palm moving slowly. "Hear the music. Hear _your_ music Isis." She waited a little bit. The fingers were still moving as a ticklish sensation rose in her. She has always been ticklish, but even more in this area since the day she cut her hand back in Astrae as the wound healed, the skin became finer and a lot more sensitive. "Do you hear it?" The other nodded. "Good," the conductor smiled. "The finale now. It's the finale."

"It's over. The music is over," Isis said soundlessly after a while.

"I want you to focus on your breathing again… inhale…exhale, yes like this. Now… slowly, I want you to open your eyes. Don't rush… take your time."

It took a good minute for those blue yellow orbs to come out of their hiding place. "How…" the sound of her voice startled her. It was so low! Clearing her throat she said again. "How… did you do that?" True, she never believed in this sort of things. Hypnosis? A joke. But now, she had to admit that she felt…relaxed. Like a marshmallow. A mysterious look answered her question.

"You played the entire opera in your head, right?" The other nodded. "Good, that means you know it, and thus you do not have to torture yourself anymore," Shizuma pointed the partition on the table with her chin. "You would only get a headache."

"I already have one anyway. It's not like it matters." She reached for the sheet of paper on the table, the conductor mirrored her, trapping Isis' hand in between the table and her own.

"For me it does." Shizuma said simply. Expecting some kind on resistance from the hand beneath hers she added some more pressure and faced Isis. But the woman was not looking at her. The violinist's look as directed to their hands on the table.

_Why the Hell do they need to squeeze it so hard? It's a hand damn it!_ Nagisa did earlier. Not that she cared, but still, she needed it. Narrowing her eyes, Isis was going to make a sharp shot back when she felt a touch just behind her right ear as a strand of her hair was being tucked behind it. _What the fuck is she…?_

"You have something…."

The younger woman turned her head to face Shizuma, removing the adventurous hand slowly. "The common word people generally use for this something is _tattoo._" The revelation seemed to surprise her interlocutor. Isis tilted her head to the side "What?"

There was a silence as the conductor was pondering the pros and the cons, carefully averting the curious gaze of the other. When the rough negotiation succeeded to a good compromise, Shizuma nodded to herself and lifted her glance. "Can I…" So awkward! "…See it?" For the first time since an immemorial time the tone she was carrying had lost all its confidence. It was shy. It was cute. Yes, cute. A lot of adjective could qualify the woman, and cute has never been part of them. She was a seductress, shameless, talented in a lot of domains, beautiful, mortal, fatale, carefree. A flamboyant libertine of manners and mind. But cute? Hell no!

Until now.

What achieved to kill Isis was the uncertain look, eyes darting everywhere desperately trying to avoid her. She was wondering if she should 'aw' or burst in laughter at the sight. Finally she chose the latter and covered her mouth in a _ladylike _manneras her eyes narrowed on their own. The dagger eyes Shizuma was throwing at her did not have any effect and the laugh faded when the violinist thought there was nothing to giggle about anymore. She cleared her throat and glanced at the considerably darkened features in front of her. "Fine, admire it if you want," Isis turned her head to the left and tucked another strand of brown hair behind her ear.

Shizuma respected art. She always did. All the forms it could take. From the paintings to the simple and skilled anonymous drawings on the streets. From the little puppy carved in wood to the _Thinker_ of Rodin. Yes, respect. But she had to admit, body art fascinated her more than anything else, when it was tastefully mixing what she loved the most. Art and body. Art on body. When the flesh becomes the canvas. Only Miyuki knew about this, everybody else would find it so out of her character. But to her it made sense. She was an art appreciator after all.

She leaned in to have a better view. Treble clef. Clean. Black. Hidden.

_Sexy._

The conductor felt suddenly poetic at the sight. Hardly fighting the urge she had to blow on it and make melodic notes appear before her eyes. She followed the curves, going thick on certain areas and finer on others. The upper loop partially hidden by Isis' lobe. Her fingers burnt. She wanted to touch. A child with a brand new toy. "Hanazono…" the voice snapped Shizuma out of her thoughts a few moments after.

"Yes?"

"I'm getting a cramp here, needless to say that your breath is awfully tickling me."

She withdrew slowly. "Sorry," chuckling a little bit. Isis tilted her head left to right to ease the starting pain. "Did it…did it hurt?"

She massaged the back of her neck with her free hand. "The tattoo?" A nod. "Not really…" Isis waited a little bit, seemingly making her point on something. "Actually…I was drunk, I can't really say." She was embarrassed. Nearly blushing. Nearly. Shizuma quirked a brow, waiting for her to elaborate. And oddly enough, she did. "Look, when you're eighteen, words like responsibility, future, money and job aren't part of your dictionary, right?" Another nod. "You also have the tendency to display a tremendous amount stupidity because it's supposed to be _cool_ at this time, hm?" Frustrated with her own train of thoughts and the look on the conductor's face, Isis sighed, defeated. "Let's just say I lost a bet, okay?"

"I did not say anything…"

"You thought it. Same thing."

"Oh, so you can read in my mind now." Shizuma smirked daringly, and the violinist's mouth burnt to order her to shut the Hell up. She kept it closed. She was the boss. She could fire her. She was the boss. Shut up. This mantra played in her head.

"No tattoo on your immaculate flesh, Hanazono?"

Shizuma shook her head. "My skin doesn't seem to like the ink they use. I don't know why though."

Isis nodded, glancing at the conductor as a question popped up in her mind. This has been bothering her for quite some time now, but she never asked. Maybe now was the moment? "Why…" she trailed off, not so sure. _Oh, come on!_ "Why is it gray? Your hair I mean…"

The other woman laughed heartily. Oh, this question! This question that was burning everybody's mouth! Such a taboo. No one ever asked her. No one _dared _to ask her. Among the numerous people she has met in her life had all the same reaction. First: being startled, and then do their best to ignore her glorious mane. All but Isis. She has seen the glint of surprise in her face the first time they met, but then the manicurist was so focused on her hands that she did not seem to care. Yes, that is it. She was not ignoring Shizuma's hair. No she was simply not _seeing_ it. Not a single glance. As if having gray hair when you are only twenty-five was the most natural thing in the world.

The violinist's face darkened, not liking the answer she got. Shizuma cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, dear. It's just…" she breathed. "Everybody is so afraid to ask me that I could not help myself…" A knock on the door cut her. Philip entered the room with Nagisa on his back. Isis had just the time to remove her hand from the table – and Shizuma's own – before the red head could spot it. She exchanged a worried look with the conductor before Philip's voice echoed in the room.

"Ladies…" he greeted aware of the sudden change of atmosphere. "I was discussing with my young friend over here," the man gestured for Nagisa to come in. "How about a dinner?" A smile crept to his lips. "All of us, of course."

There was another exchange between Shizuma and Isis, both agreeing silently on what the other would say. "I would love to," it was the older woman who spoke first, mirroring the man's smile. A little forced though.

"I can't," when she received Philip's quizzical look, the violinist quickly made up a plausible excuse. "I am baby-sitting tonight. I'm sorry," she rose up, smoothing her skirt. "Which reminds me I have to go right now." Isis nodded to Philip and Nagisa. "I guess I will see you at the dress rehearsal", Shizuma nodded to her and the violinist left the room.

* * *

She turned around herself, silently asking for her interlocutor's approval. "You look like a granny." The innocent verdict of the seven-year-old little girl stabbed her straight in her back. Sensing that her answer was wrong the kid caught herself, adding: "A cool granny." Not enough. "An awesome granny." Her baby-sitter's features relaxed and the girl released the breath she was holding. _That was close…_

Isis checked herself in the mirror again. Good thing she did not put on weight those past years, or at least not enough for this hyper-formal-broom-in-the-butt suit to enter in rebellion and tear, because she had completely forgotten to buy another one. She would have to buy two or three others at least this year. The woman observed her reflection head to toe. _Granny…indeed, the brat's right_. _Why so…oh! There it is_. The violinist glared at the skirt. It was not so long in her memories, was it? She removed it carefully. "Brat?" The little girl lifted her head giving enough time for the cat she was playing with to flee and find a calmer place. "Would you please bring me the sewing kit?" Isis was desperately trying to teach her the basics of politeness. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes not. She sat and waited for the girl to come back, staring at the skirt. _I will have your skin_, she thought.

The girl came back with the sewing kit in one hand and the defeated cat in the other. Isis thanked her for the kit and the kid settled on the bed again. "Why aren't you at school, by the way?"

She froze; and with the force of despair, the cat took the opportunity to flee again. An excuse. She had to find an excuse. Right. Now. She could already feel the accusatory glance her baby-sitter was giving her. She started coughing lightly, hoping this would work. "I…err… I'm sick?" It was more a question than an affirmation, but she tried anyway.

Silence answered her. Only the soft noise of the fabric echoed in the room. She did not like it. This silence was scolding her, literally. It was worse than anything else. The kid surprised herself missing Isis' reprimands. A few minutes of silence again and she was not able to take it anymore. "Fine!" Her outburst startled the young woman which resulted in a fatal confrontation of her index and the needle.

_Ouch!_ The violinist sucked on her finger while looking at her interlocutor a brow arching upward. "Fine?" Isis finished the hem on the skirt before facing the little girl again. She was not pouting. Her gaze was fixated on the furniture, but for sure she was not here. _Something is bothering her…_Isis thought to herself. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. _Half an hour left…_Leslie would come to pick her up for the dress rehearsal. The woman folded the skirt carefully, putting it away and then tapped the empty space beside her for the girl to lie on. When she did as told, Isis mirrored her and looked at the ceiling patiently, hands crossed on her belly.

"He keeps hurting me," the little voice whined. "He is mean with me!" The young woman could already hear the sobs at the back of her throat, even if she was not crying yet. Killer ears. She felt the weight shifting and then the kid's look on her profile. A sniff. "He even made fun of my freckles!" As much as she wanted Isis was not able to suppress the chuckle the last remark brought to her. She realized her mistake when the gaze hardened on her.

"Your freckles are cute," the violinist turned her head toward the kid and faced her to prove her point. "Don't let anybody say otherwise," the tiny face lit up magically at those words. Though, Isis felt it was not enough. "That is why you don't want to go to school?" A nod. She smiled sweetly. "Say, does this guy bother every girls he meets or only you?" A grumble answered her. "Pardon?" Of course she knew the answer already but she wanted to torture the brat a little bit longer.

"Only me…" came the expected response. Oh? Is that a blush?

Isis could not prevent another smile to spread her face. _Brat is experiencing her first crush…_ and for some reason she felt strangely proud of her.

"But I hate him anyway!" The kid tried to convince herself more than the woman. "I really do!" She insisted. "He pulls my hair!"

_Typical…_the violinist reached for the girl's chin and lifted it slowly so their eyes could met. "Brat," she started lowly. "He wants you to pay him some attention." A quizzical expression faced her and she went on. "Look, you remember this documentary we watched about animals?" A nod. "How lion males would try to impress females by showing their strength? Fighting against each other?" The girl hummed in approval. "Well, human beings aren't that evolved either," Isis stated for the girl as much as for herself. "The point is, this little boy is doing this because he is _very_…" she emphasized the word, "...interested in you."

"How would you know that?" The kid asked.

The woman quirked a brow stroking the girl's cheek. "Simple. I know _everything._" A mischievous smile made its way to her face. A knock at the door prevented any protestations to be voiced and Isis rose from the bed. She walked to the door smoothing her white shirt in the process. Her clothes or rather her _lack _of clothes froze Leslie on the spot when she opened the door to him. A quick glance at her bare legs made her realize that the skirt was still in her bedroom. The woman turned around, her friend on her back. Call it the sixth sense or third eye whatever, but Isis felt the man's gaze roaming on her body, being rather insistent on her backside. Fingers snapping in front the object of his desires drew Leslie out of his trance as middle finger and index pointed upward.

"Eyes up, Blondie." Hell! It's not like he has never seen her naked before! Why was he literally undressing her like this? At least, Hanazono tried to be discreet when she did so, but not him. Leslie chuckled in embarrassment, scratching his neck and blushing slightly.

Isis was satisfied with the skirt's length the second time she put it on. It was short enough to be called sexy and long enough to calm down any puritans' ardor about her wearing something _absolutely outrageous_. She smiled to her reflection. _Been a long time, mh?_ The nervousness of the past few months was now replaced by the thrill of coming back to the stage. The knot in her belly made the smile widen even more. Finally, the time has come. She could do i—

"Isis, hurry up!"

There's always something to break a beautiful moment with yourself. This something here was Leslie. She checked herself rapidly in the mirror again. _Hair._ Done. She would let it down to give more effect once the concert begins but for now a pen was holding it in place. _Outfit. _A hand smoothed the silky fabric of her shirt. Done. _Oh-oh…makeup_. She heard chatters, probably the girl discussing with her friend, and then her name being called again. _Damn._ Running to the bathroom, the woman grabbed the makeup kit and walked to the living room, taking her the jacket along the way. After putting on her heels - not the deadly ones this time - Isis finally darted her eyes on the man standing in front of her.

She smiled.

Classy, was what the picture before her brought to her mind. He was wearing a black tuxedo, a very simple one but it suited him perfectly. The bowtie was not done yet, each part hanging nonchalantly around his neck and—oh miracle! He was shaved. Truth be told, without his beard Leslie looked like a teenager but at least Isis was finally able to see his chin. Having her gaze on him made Leslie quite uncomfortable actually and he could not prevent the blush forming slowly but surely on his cheeks. She was checking him out, he knew it at the way her eyes sparkled, and judging by the smile playing on her lips the woman was clearly enjoying the view. An escape. He had to find an escape or they would not get out of her flat anytime soon. Needless to say there was still a seven-year-old who was getting fossilized on the sofa. Leslie cleared his throat.

"Ready to go?"

"Yes," Isis answered a few seconds after, the time for her to gather her thoughts together. "Got your sister's car?" The man nodded. "Good…Brat?" She turned her head to the sitting girl. "Time for you to go home."

The kid pouted. "Why? Can't I go with you?"

"Because what we are going to do is awfully boring_._ That's why." Isis knew the word 'boring' was a complete turn off for her interlocutor. "Now get up and go back home." Still not so convinced the girl did not move. _Time to use something else…_ she sighed. "Look, if you listen to me today, I promise that we will make cookies tomorrow afternoon…" the girl looked at her blankly and it was easy to translate: her offer was not appealing enough. "And we'll play Guitar Hero as well. Deal?" _What the Hell am I doing? Negotiating with a little girl?_

For sure the brat spent too much time with her babysitter to be able to do that. Her tiny face lit up and she jumped off of the sofa kissing Isis on the cheek then running to the door as she said goodbye, all that in a blink of an eye. The female violinist shook her head, smiling as she looked at the slammed door.

-0-

When they entered the concert room, all they could see was a sea of tuxedos and women suits. Disharmonious notes playing, musicians trying to tune their instrument as others were running half clothed searching for missing parts of their outfits.

Isis ran her eyes over the room and smiled. It was just like in her memories. Only faces changed…and there was Leslie as well. She took a long breath and walked to the stage, removing her jacket and throwing it on a seat with her purse as well. She climbed on the conductor's dais and turned around to face the people.

"Guys…"

No reaction.

Isis cleared her throat and repeated a little louder. "Guys…" The noise increased, no one was paying attention, visibly too busy to listen. The woman sighed; she knelt carefully to open her case. When standing up, she ran her eyes over the room again. Spotting Leslie she gestured for him to cover his ears. He nodded, smirking as she put the violin's chin below hers and clenched her jaw in anticipation. _Sorry guys…_ A loud strident sound came out of her instrument followed by a series of curses and cries from the other musicians. They all turned their heads toward the devil tool that almost destroyed their eardrums. Having finally the attention she wished, the concertmaster smiled.

"Guys, hello." Grumbles answered her but Isis did not care. "This is our last practice as everybody knows. I want you to remember to focus on the maestro's hands, remember what she told us. Remember the videos as well. If you are lost just take a breath calm down and start again, I know it's still a little surreal having her as conductor but remember this: it's not the conductor that makes an orchestra. We are the leaders, we decide and we play. She is only here to catalyze our strength nothing more." A huge smile crept on her face. "I hope you will enjoy the ride as much as I will." Isis got off the dais with the sound of cheers.

About twenty minutes later, the musicians were settled and tuned, practicing again this time playing the song they would do for Shizuma's entrance. Isis was smiling, they were ready, not only to play Aïda and freeze all the critics on the spot but especially to stun Shizuma. The last note echoed in the room as the conductor finally decided to appear. A frown made its way to her face when she saw Isis on the dais. She put the bag - where the tuxedo was carefully folded - on a seat and climbed on stage.

"Are you sure you do not want to be promoted, Isis?" Shizuma asked with light sarcasm.

The younger woman turned her head to face her. "No thank you," she said gratifying her with a huge fake smile. Shizuma was in a bad mood, she could tell it by her tone; but she did not care. Why would she spare her Majesty?

"Then you better stop taking the conductor's place…" The woman walked to Isis as the concertmaster got off the dais. Shizuma was a little taller than her, enough to have to lower her gaze, she leaned her head toward her both of them not leaving the other from their field of vision. When the distance was good enough, meaning _very_ close, the conductor gave the woman a seductive smirk. "Or you will regret it."

A bored expression appeared on Isis features, visibly not impressed by the oh so threatening words. "And what would the greatest Hanazono do?"

Shizuma was torn, on one hand she could prove her point by kissing the girl, but on the other hand she had the strange impression that the kiss would not be welcomed. At all if the sparkle of violence that just passed through the concertmaster's eyes was any help. The smirk widened as an idea popped up in her mind. She reached for the younger woman's ear. "I will have you…" she breathed silently. "Whether you want it or not." The conductor laughed at Isis' mortified expression when she withdrew to a reasonable distance. Shizuma's face became suddenly serious and she faced the orchestra. "Ready?" They straightened on their seats and she settled in her place waiting for the concertmaster - who was now throwing her dagger eyes - to take her place.

"You are all very elegant today," Shizuma's eyes sparkled when she noticed the blush her remark caused on some faces. "Let your music be as beautiful as you, dears." Musicians blushed again, Isis huffed and settled. Three shots from the baton echoed before the notes started ringing, filling the room.

* * *

Noise. Too much noise. He has always hated noise, when it wasn't ordered in notes to make music. Yes he has always hated disordered noise when you could not distinguish anything. Hence the slightly annoyed expression Philip wore when he made his way to the hall of the building where a torrent of tuxedoes and dresses with more or less poor taste was devastating the carpet. The man took a long breath before throwing himself in this ocean of hypocrisy, a practiced fake smile on his lips. Shake some hands, talk a bit and laugh at the right moment. That was what the years taught him, oh and always discreetly squeeze the women's hand. Philip had become a master at those things, as painful it was for him to admit it. He spotted his first victim as anger rose in his body. _That bald penguin…_it was the music critic who wrote the most virulent lampoon about his orchestra.

"My dear friend!" Philip greeted cheerfully. "How weird to see you here," he added while shaking vigorously the flabby outstretched hand.

"I was in town. I thought I would pay you a visit." The man skillfully lied. The places for this concert were long gone. "And see how your brand new orchestra is doing." His huge deceitful grin showed teeth worn by years of tobacco.

"I would say, my musicians are feeling good, thank you for your concern," the manager answered mirroring his interlocutor smile. A series of coughs answered him, he discreetly took a few step back, still smiling. _Serves you right…_

The critic took a long breath to stop coughing. "I am, to speak the truth really curious to see Miss Hanazono on stage with this new orchestra of yours," a laugh curbed with tobacco came out of his throat. "What did you do to have her? I heard she refused the Bolchoi again for the third time and they even proposed her to pay _double_ of what she already takes." An eyebrow rose to emphasize his question.

Philip cleared his throat seemingly thinking. In reality he was deliberately losing time to torture his interlocutor. He knew this was the hot topic that has been keeping the whole profession in turmoil. In other words: all he would be saying about the reason why the young woman was working with him would be decorticated, analyzed and copy pasted from magazines to magazines more or less truthfully. When he noticed the man shifting in his place he decided to answer. "Well, _Shizuma_…" he accentuated every syllable of her name to make it clear he was one of the few privileged to use it, chuckling within himself when the other's smile dropped. "…seems to like my ability to…" he trailed off again, searching for an appropriate word. "To avoid eye contact with a certain area of her upper body, if I may say." The man ended with a huge smile which widened when the discomfort of his interlocutor became clearly visible as he chuckled nervously. He, among numerous others has been sneak peeking on Shizuma's cleavage when he had the chance to meet the woman and her breasts.

A few more civilities exchanged and Philip was already heading to someone else. He played this little game for a while until he noticed this man looking completely out of it. _He is not from the profession…_the manager could testify of it. The dark-haired man was scratching his neck nervously, eyes darting everywhere seemingly searching for someone. Philip walked toward him, the warm smile coming back to its place. "Can I help you, my fine gentleman?"

The guy was surprised, and he showed it. He has been waiting here for half an hour and everybody seemed to avoid him, plus it was the first time he was called gentleman. He decided he liked it and smiled. "Actually, my wife just let me here and disappeared…" he giggled nervously. "So, I'm here all alone."

"Women's ways are inscrutable," Philip said philosophically. "It's your first time isn't it?" he added in this fatherly tone.

"Is it so obvious?"

"It is," they laughed together before the man outstretched his hand.

"I'm Dennis."

"Philip Edwards, the orchestra manager. Pleased to meet you, sir." They kept talking for a while as one was explaining the workings of an orchestra and the other merely listening. By the time they were laughing again, Miyuki came back wearing a beautiful night blue bustier dress that was leaving her shoulders bare.

"I'm sorry, Shizuma needed…" she stopped here when she met Philip's smile and could not fight hers spreading her lips slightly. "Good evening." She said politely.

He nodded and took her hand in his and practiced an elegant hand-kissing like a real gentleman. Not kissing the hand of course, just hovering over it. "Good evening my lady. Not to sound impolite but, could you be Miyuki?"

The woman was stunned. This man had just openly courted her in front of her husband who seemingly was not giving a damn about it and he God knows how knew her name. The normal and practical reaction to this would be to be offended and answer coldly. That's exactly why she gratified him with a real true smile. "I am, indeed. I haven't had the pleasure to meet you before, have I?"

Philip shook his head. "We haven't, but Shizuma talked to me about you quite a lot, I am in charge of the orchestra she leads." He giggled. "I hope she gave you good seats." She had completely forgotten about tickets until the man scolded her. The couple nodded as Dennis approached his wife, taking her hand. Philip's heart warmed up at the gesture, and excused himself before taking his leave.

He kept talking to random people until he noticed Nagisa, looking somehow insecure. When their eyes met she smiled and walked to him. "Hello Philip," she tried to sound joyful.

Again, the manager performed the hand-kissing, making his interlocutor blush widely at the gesture this time. "Good evening. Methinks you look stunning in this red dress, Nagisa." He playfully added. The woman could not prevent the blush from deepening. She managed a small thank you and a shy smile before chit-chatting with him. Though, Philip felt something was wrong, he decided to be bold and ask. No need to wear a mask with her after all.

"What's wrong, my dear?" The red head was bewildered and tried to hide her distress with a laugh. She nearly burst in tears when he squeezed her shoulder gently.

"I'm worried…" was all she could say before a musician who was not part of the orchestra came to Philip, telling him it was time to go. He looked at Nagisa apologetically.

"I'll make sure you can see her during the entr'acte" he whispered before disappearing. _They need to talk_, he thought. He suddenly felt bad for the woman, and smiled warmly to reassure her.

_I have a bad feeling…_this thought struck in the manager's head was he was walking to the concert room…_very bad…_

* * *

Shizuma looked at the ceiling of the bathroom. An hour. Only an hour before it would start. Hot water eased her stress, but it was not enough. She let it pour onto her body like a warm rain. She was tired, she did not show it in front of the musicians or even Philip, but she was. Little sleep and caffeine are a bad mix, but she did not have any choice. Shizuma _needed_ to be ready. At least today was the last day. A few hours more and she would be in a plane for God knows where with Nagisa.

_Nagisa…_

The younger woman seemed a little off lately, but Shizuma was - as always - too busy with her own problems to care. They hadn't talked much those days, as the conductor was more or less deliberately coming home late, sometimes because she needed to work, other times because she did not want to come and _actually_ talk to her. But her partner did not seem to blame her. _She's used to it by now…_ Shizuma thought sadly. A hand supported her weight on the cold tiling.

_What's wrong with me…?_

The first question popped up in her mind.

_Why do I keep hurting her like this…?_

Followed by a second one, which tightened her heart.

_What have I done…?_

The last one broke her defenses as tears slowly but surely started their unstoppable journey. Firstly from the back of the throat, coming up to the eyes as lashes fluttered making them run aground on Shizuma's lips and chin. Light sobs accompanied the irrepressible voyage of those tears that were now falling endlessly. _I broke her… _that was a light word to explain what Shizuma has done to what she had considered the love of her life, in another time. But it was the only one she could think of at this moment. She decided to shut her mind down.

After all, it was too late, wasn't it?

Shizuma showered quickly, coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body and another one around her head. She silently thanked her common sense that prevented her to walk naked in her lodge when she saw Isis seemingly very busy in the mirror. The concertmaster noticed her as well, a lazy glance darting from Shizuma's reflection to her own. Not even bothered by the state of clothing of her boss.

"What are you doing here?" Shizuma asked with a low voice, which hopefully left no trace of her cries.

"Make-up." Isis waved the mascara she was using. "Isn't it obvious?"

"There's a bathroom for the musicians. You are in a private lodge. In _my_ private lodge."

The concertmaster sighed, continuing what she was doing. "It's crowded and this mirror is big enough to contain the three of us."

"Three?" Shizuma who was gracefully applying a cream on her legs stopped on her track to look at girl's reflection.

"I'm counting your abyssal ego as well." Isis smiled when she heard a chuckle in her back.

After finishing with her eye-liner she noticed that Shizuma was now in underwear, quickly but carefully drying and styling her hair. _She's fast…_ Her years at Miatre taught the conductor one thing, when she was trying to fulfill her wish to sleep more and not be late in class: be fast. After a few fails, Shizuma mastered in this domain. And thus, in a little less than half an hour later she was buttoning her shirt, fully clothed and hair tied up. She lifted her head to a stunned Isis who was staring at her in awe for the first time of her life.

"Impressive isn't it?" She asked, half smiling and received a slight nod. "I will teach you one day…"

"I hope not," the concertmaster grinned. She turned around to face Shizuma and looked straight into her eyes silently, the other woman had the strange impression she was being scanned from the inside. Isis sighed after a while. "Come here," she said softly, gesturing with her hand.

"Excuse me?" The conductor was destabilized, firstly by the intensity she was being looked at and by the command she received.

"Come here, I would not like you to look like crap for our first concert, and your puffy red eyes and nose aren't helping."

Shizuma opened her mouth but the words were stuck in her throat. _So she heard me…_no wonder, the woman had told her that she had a very keen hearing. She shook her head and did as told. Isis sat on the dresser so she would be at eye level. When amber eyes lingered on her thighs the concertmaster quickly crossed her legs sending her a death glare. Shizuma was close enough the other woman searched for an item she was going to use when the other cut Isis in her tracks.

"I have my own, you know," she whined.

"Shut up," the conductor tried to protest but Isis went on. "Look, it's not every day that you get to have a specialist you don't pay seven hundred pounds per hour." Another chuckle echoed from Shizuma's throat as she felt a slender finger lifting her chin. Isis was literally scanning her face, turning it sweetly left to right. "I'm amazed by the evenness of your skin." It was not a compliment, not even a line to flatter Shizuma. A simple remark from someone who knew what she was talking about. Silence filled the room only disturbed by the light breathing of the two women.

"Close your eyes," Isis spoke gently, almost whispering not to break the silence that settled.

She removed a few strand of Shizuma's hair from her forehead and the woman found herself longing for her touch. Not physical no, just…extremely comforting. Yes, comforting. Something she has rarely felt. Another tear wanted to escape from her left eye. She fought with it without success as it fled down her cheek. The concertmaster wiped the tear smoothly with a tissue, retracing its track slowly. Shizuma waited for some assassin comments or even a chuckle. Something that would make her pay for showing such vulnerability in front of someone else. After all, Nagisa fled when the older woman told her about Kaori that stormy night didn't she? When she discovered that the shining Etoile had branches made of clay. When she discovered her _humanity_.

Nothing came out of Isis' mouth as she was carefully applying make-up. She had had a few customers breaking down on her when she was working at the beauty salon. She was not one to ask what was wrong, her own modesty preventing her most of the time to do so. That's the reason why she tried her best to comfort them, in her own way, the way she was permitted to use: smooth gestures and sweet smiles and sometimes, when she could, she would not make them pay for her services or give them an extra massage. But now, the young woman felt it wasn't enough. It would _not_ be enough this time. When she finished and before Shizuma had the time to open her eyes Isis circled her neck and hugged her.

The conductor released a surprised breath when she felt the weight on her shoulders. She refused to open her eyes nevertheless simply enjoying the moment. They were alone. That's all that mattered at this instant. Isis withdrew before she could decide whether to wrap her arms around her as well or not. The younger woman then pushed Shizuma to have enough room to climb off and left the room as silently as she came under the gaze of the other woman.

-0-

A musician spotted the concertmaster coming out of Shizuma's lodge and informed her they would be on stage in five minutes. A pang of stress shot straight in her belly turning it upside down in a blink of eye. She searched for her case and tuned her instrument in order to work her nervousness out.

"Young lady, have you seen Shizuma?" Philip's voice snapped her out of her bubble. "I'm sorry. Did I scare you?" He asked, his brows furrowing slightly.

Isis shook her head. "It's fine. She's in her lodge," he started walking away when she stopped him. "I think she needs a little time alone though…you know, focusing, all that conductor stuff…" the man smiled and nodded before taking his leave.

She took a long breath before being disturbed by a hand on her shoulder. Leslie flashed her a small smile before pointing to his bowtie, defeated. Isis turned around and chuckled at his wounded expression. "I will learn how to make it!" He insisted. "Someday…"

"Never. You never will."

He wanted to argue but reconsidered his friend's statement and nodded. "You—"

She hushed him with gentle a kiss getting on her toes and pulled back when she was done with the bowtie. "Your Adam apple was moving I could not make the knot." Isis said, a mischievous smirk on her face. At the slightly disappointed expression on Leslie's face she decided to play her last card. "You want an answer?"

It took a few seconds for the man to realize what she was talking about and when he did, his body tensed up as he nodded, waiting. After all, they did not talk about that since their argument, both of them willing to avoid any more conflict. Isis needed her time to think and Leslie understood so he waited. She got on her toes and kissed him again, possessively this time, passing her hand through his blonde hair making sure to blow his mind off before pulling back. They were only inches apart.

"Remember this little pub not far from my work?" Isis licked her lips. "Let's meet up there after the concert…give me one hour okay?" Leslie nodded, panting. "Good," another peck and she disappeared.

A smug smile made its way on the blonde-haired violinist's face. He was still staring at the empty spot in front of him. _Here we go!_ Leslie was slowly giving in this sweet euphoria as his body began to feel numb. A little dizzy from Isis' half confession and especially her kiss. A little pitching, he let himself being dragged by someone – probably a musician – but he did not care. All that mattered was her, and only her. _I will prove to you_, he thought, I_ will prove to you that I'm worthy of your love… _This thought stuck to his head as he walked on stage to his seat in a dead silence.

A little moment after, the musicians were settled and ready. Isis looked at them, her figure hidden from the public by the curtain. _I…can't make it…_ she wanted to flee. Steal a car, go back home, and hide in her blanket. This idea was more appealing than the stage in front of her. _Why the Hell did I do that in the first place?_ It was Leslie's fault. Yes, that's it! It was his entire fault; she never wanted to do this audition. Her job was fine! She was fine! What did she earn by listening to him? Being harassed by a succubus who wanted to jump on her each time they meet. The funny thing? Isis even started to_ like_ Shizuma. She was startled by her own realization and made a face. _Better not tell her that…she might think we can seal our friendship in bed…Wait wait wait…Friendship? __Did I just think that? __Ew._ She made another face, her eyes narrowing.

Yet it was true, for her as much as it was for Shizuma. Of course, the conductor always wanted her, as bad as everything she could not get. But it was not the only reason why she was sticking with her for as she was not playing seriously with her as she would have done with someone else. It was a distraction a mouse and cat game where the roles would not have been defined in advance. No. Lust was definitely not what was keeping Shizuma by Isis' side. The girl was intriguing for her. She was new…not new as in a new toy she could fool around with. New as unknown. New as willing to know _her_ – and her body as an extra -. Because the young woman was the first one who threw her the truth beneath her actions in her face without ceremony. The truth that was fear, complexity and loneliness.

A smooth hand snapped Isis out of her thoughts in the middle of her plan on how to get out of this building without being noticed. Philip gently massaged her tense shoulder. "Does it bring back memories?" A nod. "Good ones I hope!" He said cheerfully and she nodded again unable, to voice anything. "I think it's time for you to show your beautifulness to the audience, young lady," the man added after a quick glance at his pocket watch.

"I'm scared…" she sincerely answered him feeling like a little girl under his understanding gaze.

"One day, you were not born yet I think…" Philip started. "Back then I was still a young student…maybe around your age, a little less if I recall correctly. And I had this huge recital organized by the school, teachers decided I would be opening this ceremony with this piece…" he cleared his throat before continuing. "_Pavane pour une infant défunte_ of Ravel…" Isis could not help but giggle at his loud Britain accent. He was obviously not friends with French. He smiled and spoke again. "I was tetanized before entering on stage…"

"What did you do then?"

A huge smile crept on the man's face as he answered, "I just imagined all the public naked," a light chuckle echoed in his throat.

"Did it help?" The woman quirked a brow.

"Not at all," another laugh this time joined by Isis' own. "I just wanted to tell you that no matter what you do my dear, you will always be scared. That's the difference between you and those cocky musicians who think they are good." Philip massaged her shoulders again, smiling proudly at her. "Now go, young lady and prove us your value," spotting Shizuma who was walking in their direction he added in a breath. "And impress her as well."

Blue yellow eyes met amber ones for a few seconds before Isis nodded and walked away, to the stage.

-0-

It was her view that gave up on her first. Blinding projector directed on her made it difficult for the young woman to walk straight, but she managed. Her hearing decided to run away when the decibels of applause reached a certain point and she focused on the dais in the middle of the stage to prevent any unfortunate trip. Like an automaton she turned around to face the public which was still applauding – not really caring who she was a long as it was the concertmaster – Isis bowed, the grip on her violin and bow tightening as the seconds passed. _Calm down girl, calm down… _she counted until three and straightened, flashing a dimple filled smile to the audience. _Good…like that… _Isis breathed as her heart decided that it was not the best of the days to have a heart attack and settled to a normal rhythm. She turned around this time to look at the visibly stressed musicians. The oboe concertmaster nodded at the young woman as she rose from her seat to give her the A. The violinist was then supposed to play it in order to let the musicians tune their instruments on the same key before the conductor would walk on stage.

Yes they were_ supposed._

Because in reality they were all tuned and ready to play. That's the reason why no sound came out of Isis' violin, she lifted her head to the pianist and discreetly gestured him to start. The man waited a few seconds for the other musicians to open their partitions.

Psychedelic notes of piano filled the silent room.

_What is that?_

Eyes widened in the audience.

_It is not Aïda, is it?_

Soft whispers could be heard in the public as the pianist played the same melody a second time.

_Where is the conductor?_

And one last time, the piano sang alone before being joined by the entire orchestra. Trumpets were the loudest as all the strings followed them sliding like water.

_I think I know this…_

Shizuma was standing, still. Eyes widened directed toward her orchestra. It was playing. Playing for _her. _It was not the first time that an orchestra was playing for her entrance, she remembered Madrid's playing happy birthday for her two years ago. Yes something light and shallow…but not _this._ Not like that. _This is why she was always…_

"Do you like it?" Philip's soft voice echoed near her hear, breaking her thoughts. She could say he was smiling, even more when she nodded. "The young lady had the idea…"

At this moment the orchestra stopped to let the piano play its solo. Isis turned her head to look at the conductor, a huge grin on her face. Shizuma had never seen her smile like that, she nodded back and walked to her, eyes locked as the orchestra played again. Applause increased when Shizuma appeared on stage. She turned around halfway to face the public and give them her brand bright smile before walking to her dais, not leaving Isis from her field of view. It is only when she climbed on it that she looked away from the concertmaster, facing the public and bowing. Turning around again, Shizuma extended her right hand to the other woman.

_Thank you…_

Isis gave her a small smile when she felt the squeeze on her hand. She sat down in the usual concertmaster's place and opened her partition. Taking a long breath, she narrowed her eyes at the black curves on the sheets and tried to focus.

The conductor ran her gaze over the orchestra, giving the nervous musicians a reassuring smile. She had never done that before. The orchestras she led back then were professional to the core. Professional and cold. Some heads nodded back when her amber eyes reached them, others blushed slightly. The silence in the audience was deafening as Shizuma took her baton. First shot. Second shot. A brief glance at Isis who looked back to let her know she was ready. Third shot. Her lips curved up and music started.

* * *

_Add more puissance…_

…_Smooth with the strings….smooth…_

_Don't be late on the second movement…._

_Brass…careful with the brass._

_Come on flutes, come on…_

The last note echoed in the room signaling the entr'acte. Mouths allowed lungs to be emptied as a cacophony of loud coughs mixed with hands clapping came out of the audience. Shizuma opened her eyes, looking at the musicians as if it was the first time that she saw them. Gathering her thoughts, she turned around and bowed. Climbing off the dais, she made her way to the backstage under the applause.

The musicians waited a bit. Then, they joined the backstage discreetly. Firstly the back of the orchestra, brass, bassoons and percussion. The seats in the middle started to empty as the strings were ready to go. Isis was standing, facing the public that she did not see, her vision blinded by the lights. When she was sure no one was still on stage, the concertmaster bowed and joined her fellows.

"…otally screwed up this part…."

"I need a string! Anyone please! Give me a string!"

"Where's my talc? I need it my hands are slippery!"

"Ew! I'm sweating. Gross."

Snippets of conversations echoed in her ears, but she was not listening. She took a long breath, _I missed this…_ Isis could not lie to herself anymore. This atmosphere…that was what she longed for five years. It was a part of her. Music was a part of herself, a part she chose to ignore for much too long. Spotting her bag she opened it and took a towel, fixing her hair with a pen in the same way. She sponged the light perspiration that had formed on the back of her neck. The woman made a face. There's no way she was going to meet up with Leslie in this state. Absolutely. Not. _Shower!_ Her eyes sparkled suddenly. She could always use the shower in Shizuma's lodge_. I will have to ask her… _she thought to herself remembering the conductor's face when she saw her in the mirror. _And certainly not forget to lock the door behind me…_ okay Isis _might _consider Shizuma as a friend, but it did not mean she would be off guard around her. Not at all. The concertmaster emptied half of her bottle of water before spotting the conductor speaking to the musicians who circled her. She walked toward them.

"…ve done a very good job so far" Shizuma was smiling and Isis could swear that there was not any trace of sweat on the woman's face. _How can she do that?_ "I felt that some of you wanted to let go at some point, but you stayed in tracks. Keep it up for the next part." Another smile and amber eyes locked with the concertmaster's as she spoke again. "Oh! And another thing, thank you for this wonderful surprise." Shizuma took her leave to relax a bit for the next fifteen minutes after giving a few more instructions.

Isis followed her to her lodge, not closing the door as she would not be staying anyway. "You are a very good liar, Hanazono…"

"I do not call it lying actually…" Shizuma unbuttoned the first three buttons of her shirt, relieved when she felt cold air on her burning skin. "I would say encouraging them," she sat on the couch of the lodge, crossing her legs. "Don't you agree?" Taking a sip from the bottle on the table, she added, "And believe me when I say you are far better than others, Isis."

The concertmaster sighed, feeling slightly tired. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you if I could use the shower here, after the concert." Shizuma quirked a brow, waiting patiently. "_Please_," she smiled at the word. A glint of playfulness made it through her eyes as the smile became a dangerous smirk.

"_Alone,_" the other woman added, emphasizing the word. _Note to self: don't forget to lock the door twice._ She narrowed her eyes at the other.

"Fine, fine…I won't touch you," Shizuma sighed and her eyes sparkled again. "…Yet."

"Don't you have anything else in mind?" Isis tried.

"Right now?" The older woman was silent for a moment, seemingly thinking. Brows furrowed and index tapping slightly on her chin made the violinist think that Shizuma was actually seeking a proper answer. She looked at the full of hope blue yellow eyes and hummed a bit. "Nothing else, but you," was her response before a seductive grin spread her lips.

Isis was going to answer her to go to hell for the umpteenth time when she heard something. _A yelp_…? No, no, it was not a yelp. It was a little shaky. _A cry maybe…?_ A knock on the door broke her train of thoughts. Nagisa was standing at the threshold, with an unreadable expression as she darted her eyes from the concertmaster to Shizuma still on the couch.

"Hello…" the violinist stopped here as the red head shot her a glare. Something she rarely ever did in her life. "…O-okay," Isis glanced at her watch. "I think I'm going to go…"

"Yes indeed." Nagisa spoke with a cold tone. "You better do."

It was Shizuma this time who glared dangerously at the red head_. What is happening?_ "Nagisa…" she started when Isis left the room and closed the door behind her. "Why were you so unpleasant with her, she hasn't done anything?" She was slightly irritated, but as always nothing in her voice deceived her state of mind. Her eyes on the contrary showed it. Nagisa was definitely out.

_She hasn't done anything…_ a bitter laugh echoed in the room. "Anything…anything you say?" she lifted her head to look straight into Shizuma's eyes. "Anything besides warming your bed."

It was done.

The first arrow hit her.

It hurt.

Eyes widened. Mouth opened. A pause followed as Shizuma gathered her thoughts. "What…" she started soundlessly. "What…" mouth felt dry. "What…are you talking about?" Words finally forced their passage through her throat as she glanced at Nagisa, completely bewildered.

The intensity in the younger woman's eyes was almost blinding. "Do you think that I'm blind, Shizuma?" she asked with an even tone. Trying her best not to give in her sorrow.

Standing, the conductor walked her way to her partner, slowly. Locking eyes with her. But this time, it was not enough. This condescending attitude would not be enough. The person she had in front of her was not this fifteen-year-old school girl she once knew. The one that would blush and hide from her. No. It was a woman. A wounded woman. "Do you think that I don't see anything?" Nagisa repeated again, her body tensing up. "Do you think that I don't see the way you look at each other?" A tear escaped from her right eye. "Do you?"

Shizuma never liked to see people crying. It reminded her too much of her father. Of Kaori. Of how she, herself could not control her emotions. Of how she broke everything she touched. The woman took a step forward. "Nagisa…" she spoke smoothly, hoping to calm the girl down. "Nagisa, you are wron—" a stinging pain crossed her left cheek, preventing her to end her sentence. Head thrown to the right, eyes widened at the wall as a drop fell on the floor in a dead silence.

_Tap._

The hand returned to Nagisa's side. "Don't lie…" she whispered. "Don't lie to me anymore." Tears fell down her cheeks. "I…" sobs came out of her throat. "I- I know…" she wiped her eyes but it was no use as more tears filled them again. "I… know what happened five years ago."

The veil has fallen.

_Tap._

Shizuma winced as her finger brushed over the bruised commissure of her lower lip.

"I know what you did," Nagisa said, taking a shaky breath to ease the rising anger. "I…know…" she shook her head slightly. "It happened once…this…this I know," her eyes were glued on the ground, not far from Shizuma. "I… I didn't say anything because…"

"Not once." It was a whisper. She turned her head slowly to face the girl. "Not once," eyes narrowed at her. Why would she care anyway? Shizuma wanted to tell her didn't she? Well, an occasion just presented itself to her. Of course she was not planning to announce it like this. Or to say it at all for that matter, but who cares? "Yes, you are blind indeed," Nagisa's head snapped up at the cold tone. "It did not happen just once." Shizuma walked to her with an icy stare. "Dozens of times," the younger woman started to cry but this time the conductor did not notice it. No, she did not _want_ to care about it. About her. Anymore. "Hundreds of times" each words sliced her skin mercilessly. "And Isis?" the older woman was close to her now. "I have not slept with her; if you want to know…" she leaned in to her ear and whispered the end of her sentence. "…But I certainly will."

* * *

_She_ was late. Ten minutes. But it still counts. The public was waiting. The public is not patient. _She _should know it. And yet, _she_ was late. Isis could feel the musicians' demanding stares on her, she darted her eyes over the heads again, hoping to find Shizuma coming from the backstage, but the young woman knew where she was.

And she would be damned to go there ever again.

_What was that, earlier?_ She did not know Nagisa much, yes. But still, each time they met they were always quite decent to each other, weren't they? Smiling and all that stuff, right? _Then why…_ her eyes widened when it hit her. Damn why did not she react earlier? _You're stupid… _she scolded herself_, stupid, stupid, stupid!_ She growled loudly, getting quizzical looks from the violinists around her. Of course! Playing those not so innocent games with Shizuma might have misled the red head. Isis face palmed herself, getting even more questioning stares from the musicians. _I have to apologize to her,_ she decided. And she would have to talk to Shizuma about it as well. Asking her to stop being all flirty…it's distracting. And she did not need to be distracted now.

Not when she finally made a decision.

Isis glanced at Leslie. He was sitting next to her, straight on his chair, not looking at her. Yes indeed, she made a decision. A selfless one. Sell her loneliness for his sake. Or so she thought. It looked great said like that, didn't it? But in reality she decided this for her own sake. Not to be alone anymore. Stop being this frightened little girl. After all, he loved her. He told her million times already. And she…well…she cared about him.

Very much so.

She was not in love, properly said. Love was something she did not want to think about anymore, regarding where this _wonderful_ feeling led her. Isis made a face. Love was this little black screen which decided to locate itself just in front of her eyes, preventing her to notice the most essential things. She decided…yes she decided.

She would not be blinded by it anymore.

But she could always pretend. It would not be so hard…after it was Leslie. One of the best person she knew, yes she could let him. Let him take care of her, let him _inside_, let him into dusty dark place she locked up a while ago. She could let the man make himself at home and maybe, _maybe_ learn to love him back the way he wants. The way he deserves. Yes she could. And she will.

A whole new determination invaded her as she thought about her resolution. But first things first. Meaning she would really ask Shizuma to stop what she was doing, it was, um, distracting.

Very much so.

Isis barely contained her laughter as the image of the dizzy Shizuma popped in her head. Ah, that joke! It was priceless really. She found the perfect victim. Her mute giggle fell flat a small moment after. No, no, no she should not be thinking about that. _Nagisa…remember Nagisa…_ _yes that's it, like that._ The concertmaster relaxed on her seat. She would have to apologize. Definitely.

Everybody straightened when Shizuma finally decided to come back. Fifteen minutes late. _Such a diva. _Isis thought, until she noticed a partially hidden bruise on the conductor's lip and locked eyes with her.

_What's going on?_

Shizuma shook her head slightly, not to be noticed by the other musicians.

_Nothing._

Isis nodded, not even a half convinced by the answer. What could she do anyway?

Three shot echoed in the room, the conductor wincing slightly when she smiled to the orchestra to let the music start.

-0-

_No…this is not working…_

At all.

Her eyes left the partition before her to focus on the woman on the dais. Shizuma's body was still, as always. But her movements were brisk. Her hands were not dancing, no. It was as if she was fighting someone. Accurate indications as always, but crisped position. Yes, that's it, her whole body was stiff. Isis could notice it from her place, and it was not a good sign. Fine, the orchestra lacked a little bit of technique, but this could be easily hidden, in meantime. But if even the conductor was out of it, then they would have a problem. A serious one.

_Damn it._

This was the reason why Isis never sat with the violinists during the practice. If the conductor whoever he or she was a little down, the concertmaster could always relay her and make the orchestra work. But, for that, she needed to _face_ them. She shifted on her seat, feeling slightly frustrated and glared at Shizuma. _Of course, her eyes are closed, obviously._ Isis played louder, not enough to be noticed by the orchestra or the public. A shadow of frown appeared on Shizuma's brow. _Come on…open your eyes damn it!_ Again she played louder as the frown increased when finally Shizuma decided to open her eyes and see what was going on. Sparkling blue yellowish orbs caught hers. She shivered a bit, they were literally scolding her and the conductor knew why.

_Sorry…_

She gave a small apologetic smile and nodded slightly. Isis relaxed on her seat and lowered the sound of her violin. The rest of the concert went smoothly, Shizuma having gathered her spirits and leading the orchestra to the finale. A very sweet finale as the music died little by little as the notes were played perfectly conveying Aïda's agony. It's only when the room was plunged in silence that the audience clapped.

And for clapping, they did.

The whole audience stood up, as the lights went on. Shizuma was panting, straight on her dais and eyes closed. She relaxed as the seconds passed, her arms hanging loosely at her sides. Lashes fluttered and amber orbs appeared again, meeting a sea of huge smiles before them. They had done it. Finally. Four months of labors and stress, but it was for the better if the cheers in her back were any help. _We have done it… _Shizuma gratified her orchestra with her trademark grin and winked before turning around to face the audience.

_We have done it._

Always smiling, she bowed and then reached for the bouquet given to her by a random assistant on stage. The conductor looked at it a little bit then turned around suddenly extending her hand to the sitting concertmaster, gesturing her to come.

Isis' eyes widened.

_No…_she shook her head slightly. Why? Why Shizuma wanted her to embarrass herself even more.

_Yes, _Shizuma quirked a brow. _Come on, Isis …_ they engaged another glance war. The concertmaster sighed after a few seconds and rose from her seat. She joined the other woman who gave her the bouquet, smirking mischievously.

"You will pay for this, Hanazono," she muttered between her teeth, still smiling to the public.

"I look forward to it", Shizuma whispered, smiling as well.

A small moment after, the room was already emptying as the musicians were also joining the backstage. The conductor completely disappeared after properly congratulating her orchestra about its performance. Philip had in fact asked her to entertain the possible patrons so he could empty their pockets.

And Nagisa was still crying. In the lodge. Alone. The older woman having left the room to finish the concert after revealing this open secret_. _After the phase of denial, Nagisa was now experiencing the next one: hatred. Though, the hatred was not directed toward the one who actually hurt her. Not even toward the numerous conquests Shizuma may have had throughout those five years when the red head decided to ignore the most obvious things, the marks she found on her body time on time, when they were making love. Shizuma never liked to be marked, bites and all that were not her cup of tea, a priori not when it came from a complete stranger. Her smell as well. Her smell was soiled, her smell had changed during those years.

_They_ have changed. Exchanging words, not talking anymore like they used to at the first frosts of their relationship. Back then, they did spend a lot of time where they would simply talk with each other. For Nagisa, Shizuma was still this mysterious woman met at the corner of a tree. She certainly knew about her relationship with Kaori and where her sorrow led her, but she knew nothing about her family, about the woman _herself_. Not Etoile. Shizuma. Only Shizuma. And the older woman, back in time had allowed Nagisa know about those things. She told her about her father's death and her childhood spent in France, about her mother, and the fact that they never had a close relationship, one not willing to give the love and caring each mother should, and Shizuma being sweetly wrapped in a golden cocoon coated with warm fatherly love was not caring much. That was until he passed away and the cocoon only gave her cold shine of gold. She never blamed her mother though. How could she blame a stranger? But she told Nagisa a numerous times that she did not want to have children, afraid she would become that same anonymous shadow her mother was – and still is – to her eyes. The red head talked about it, tried to reassure her girlfriend a lot of times but in vain and finally gave up. Shizuma was stubborn. And thus, Nagisa had sacrificed one of her wishes but she was still hoping that one day, when her partner would really feel secure, she might change her mind.

But now, now it did not matter anymore. Shizuma was gone. _Gone…she's gone…_ those words played in her head like a song. _Gone…gone she's gone. _Her body sore from being wound into a tight ball, Nagisa uncurled herself and rose from the sofa, making her way awkwardly to the mirror. She looked at her disordered reflection. _Gone…gone, she's gone. _A few more tears ran on her cheek tainted with melting make up. _Gone…_she looked straight in her reflection. _Gone…gone to her._ Jaw clenched. _Gone to her. _She bit her lip. _To her._ Hard. She released her grip before she would bruise herself and left the room. The concert was over, the backstage was silent. Musicians were probably gone, to celebrate their performance. Shizuma? Well, Shizuma was nowhere to be found at this precise moment. Nagisa wandered aimlessly in the corridors, seeking the exit door that was purposely avoiding her.

"Damn, it's cold!" a muffled voice whined, coming from the bathroom the red head was just passing by. The voice grumbled again as water and the sound of fabric rubbing could be heard. Nagisa walked silently to the door and opened it. Her eyes widened at the scene before her.

The hatred she had was not directed toward the person who hurt her the most. No, it was directed toward this young woman with flesh colored undergarment who was getting dressed. Isis yelped at the intrusion and relaxed when she saw Nagisa. She greeted her with a warm smile and shining eyes. Though, her expression dropped as soon as she noticed the red head's state.

"Are you alright?" Isis asked worriedly, buttoning her jeans and rushing to her when no answer came. "Hey…" she felt Nagisa's body tense up when she touched her shoulder and decided to withdraw, taking a few steps back. "What's…"

"…ault," a whisper cut her.

"Excuse me?"

"Your fault…" it was louder this time. Nagisa lifted her head slowly so their eyes could meet. "It's…your fault." The intensity in her eyes was breathtaking. A not so new, as for a split second the image of a nineteen-year-old music student flashed in Isis' mind and superposed itself on Nagisa's face.

Silence filled the room between them, the concertmaster looking through the other girl, mouth agape and eyes wide.

"All…is your fault," she went on, taking a step forward. "We were…happy," speaking with a ghost voice. "And…in love," picturing her fantasy. "Then you… happened," she caressed the cold surface of the sink. "You…broke us," drowning in her shattered bubble as her steps led her inevitably to Isis whose eyes had become strangely lifeless.

…_Hey, hey do you love me?_

…_I won't answer this question…_

Snippets of an old conversation echoed in her head as she felt her body being roughly pushed. Losing her balance. Falling in slow motion.

…_Why?_

…_I don't want to…_

…_And if I told you that I love you, would you feel more secure to say it too?_

A dull pain traversed her body, starting from the back of her head. She shut her eyes tight but the memories were still rushing in her head.

…_Maybe…_

…_Well, then listen carefully: I love you…_

Her limbs became heavy. Nerves shivered when the cold floor met her skin, the upper part of her body being only decently hidden by her bra. The pain let its place to a numb feeling. It was…pleasant but cold as well. The conversation continued again, louder this time.

…_I…_

…_You…?_

…_I love you._

Her mind drifted to the dark limbos of unconsciousness.

…_I really do._

* * *

**Mmh, it's odd how love and desperation can push you to do the craziest things, don't you think?**

**So, before I lose half of my readers and get tremendous hate mails stating Nagisa would absolutely not do what she's done, and that my story sucks and you're going to hunt me down and burn my house let me tell you this: I totally agree with you, and Nagisa is ****NOT**** the bad guy here, she is the victim. Got it? Victim. Should I write it another time? Victim. **

**The only one who's to blame is Shizuma, no one else…or she might be a victim as well, but from another perspective. I admit I don't like Nagisa that much but she is everything but a mean person, let's say she was lost. Does that work?**

**Hell! It needed to be done for the story, that's all. Now if you've got any comments on it, just post your review and I'll answer you, no problem =D Constructive criticisms though, you can keep the "You suck!" for yourself.**

**Yes Marin Alsop does exist. Yes she is a conductor. Yes she is gay. Yes she looks like a butch. No I've never heard one of her interpretation I just browsed on the internet and found forum where they said she sucks. Yes I am sorry for turning her down. Forgive me?**

**Initials BB is a song written by Serge Gainsbourg for his lover Brigitte Bardot in 1968, that guy was a God of music, I don't know if Americans (or whoever out of France) know about him, in fact he's especially known for his famous phrase "I want to fuck you" said to Whitney Huston while he was drunk on TV, and his fabulous pieces of course.**

**Here, the orchestral version of Initial BB:**

**http:/ www****. youtube. com/ watch?v=emBvzjpSBto&feature=related**

**It's absolutely beautiful, I don't know why, but this song and especially the chorus always conveyed some kind of elegance to me (don't forget he wrote it for a woman) , I thought it'd fit Shizuma (if I sound crazy let me know ). Plus Gainsbourg used a part of Dvorak's symphony **_**"The new world",**_** (the first movement to be more precise) in his chorus, listen to it and you'll see. Same as he used Chopin for Lemon Incest or Jane B. Do you know a singer now that would do this? Yes I'm looking at you Justin Bieber.**

**The orchestra plays Aïda of Verdi. Shame on you if you don't know about the Triumphal March. =D**

_**Vocabulary:**_

_**Allegro**_** is an Italian word which means, um vibrant or brisk…maybe? Yes in fact I know exactly what it means in French but to find the right word in English…I just hope you get the idea, if not let me know.**

_**Mademoiselle Etoile**_** is the French translation of Etoile-sama.**

_**Didascalies**_** are stage indications. I know, I should have written it in English up there but I don't know…the French sounded better, more**_** technical**_** if I may say.**

**I'd like to thank my awesome beta Wicked White Queen for the work she's done, seriously if she was not here I don't think I'd post anything in English. Thank you, really. Thanks. **

**Go read her stories by the way, they're awesome, I really mean**_** awesome**_**. Just like her.**

**And of course, merci beaucoup to Layla Hamilton for taking the time to give me her point of view about this chapter and her ass long answers. Please cheer her, she deserves it.**

**My apologizes if you spot any mistakes/typos.**

**Mhm I don't see anything else to say. Let me know if I missed something.**

**Ah si! J'écris en français pour les nombreuses (eux ?) francophones qui me lisent (et j'vous remercie aussi =D), je réfléchis actuellement à une traduction de cette fic en français. Je sais que la section française de SP est pas vraiment remplie, alors voilà je me disais que je pourrais peut être m'atteler à en faire une version française comme ça vous n'auriez pas à utiliser les traducteurs en ligne. Ce n'est qu'une idée pour le moment dites-moi juste si le projet est pourri ou pas. Cependant, si c'est oui, j'aurais besoin de l'un(e) d'entre vous, la traduction est un exercice assez difficile, avoir deux points de vue pourrait rendre les écrits plus précis. Contactez moi soit par review ou par MP si ça vous intéresse.**

**Oh! If you want the fourth chapter, then convince Charlotte Lebon to propose to me. =D**

**See you in two months! Haha mhm. Look, it may take time but I won't give up on this fic, I know how frustrating it is when a work is unfinished. So it will be updated…when it will be updated. ****Patience.**

**Until then, **_**je n'ai toujours pas le SMIC intellectuel requit pour faire du droit. Grillée.**_

_**Hazel.**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello =) Been a long time, hm?**

**The fourth chapter already, yes I say already because I've been working on this fiction since the middle of October and releasing four long ass chapters in less than a year is quite an exploit considering how lazy I am. **

**Anyway, thank you very much for the feedback, I can tell you it's really really appreciated. Plus the number of hits/visitors is increasing which means that more people are enjoying the fiction. I wanted to thank you for this.**

**Sorry for the delay, you will find a valuable explanation at end.**

**Sky: Parlo l'Italiano pero eh, non ho un buon livello. Ho speso il mio tempo dormendo in classe allora scusami. Voglio dire grazie mille a te per la tua review, è perché scrivo in Italiano =D Non mi aspettavo di avere molti commenti per Legato allora ero sorpresa quando ho letto il tuo commento, ancora più quando ho visto che era scritto in italiano hahaha. Grazie. Provo scrivere una storia realistica è sono felice che ti piace Legato. ****Scusami per il mio vocabulario limitato, I will finish in English and hope you will understand me =) As I said I am really happy and yes, life is not a fairytale I especially loved when you said that desires and ambitions almost never come true in real life, it has a very powerful meaning. I like to make my characters struggle with the hazards of this bellissima vita. =D Thank you again, and I hope my Italian didn't make you cringe.**

**Charlotte Lebon: Anon, whoever you are, I want you to know that I love you. I laughed my ass off for five minutes when I found your review, thank you! Hope you'll like this chapter. AND YES MOHTERFUCKING YES I MARRY YOU RIGHT NOW.**

**Ehm. **

**Oh, I just realized, while browsing on the internet I found the meaning of Hanazono which (depending on the kanji you use though) is something like flower garden. Now I know the why of Shizuma's behavior and her greenhouse and stuff.**

**Also I will ask you favor guys, when you will reach the moment where Shizuma plays the piano in her music room, please listen to the song while you read, it's important.**

**Here : http:/ www. / watch?v=ef-4Bv5Ng0w (remove the spaces)**

**I don't own Strawberry Panic. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Legato**

**By Hazel Liebovsky**

* * *

Chapitre Quatre

The sky on this Monday had decided to be particularly merciful. It was still freezing, true. But at least the usual gray sheet which seemed to be permanently occupying London's sky had strangely decided to give its place to a shining sun. Shizuma took a deep breath, exhaling an opaque smoke. Having spent her whole Sunday and Saturday night at her summer house alone and away from everything – including Nagisa – did help her to relax and come back fresh.

She just had the time to drop her things at home and take a shower before heading to work. The red head, as expected was nowhere to be seen, but Shizuma could care less about her now that it was over. It was over, right? Yes it was. That's the reason why the older woman went to her summer household after having properly flattered some egos. To let her ex-girlfriend time to gather her thoughts and her belongings. Of course it would take much more, they would have to talk about it. The house was on Shizuma's name. She bought it after visiting it with Nagisa when she graduated from high school and applied for the Royal College, stating that living on the campus would be boring without the red head by her side. In reality, she was trying to avoid the temptation as much as possible back when she was trying her best to make their relationship work. Migraine decided to dance a tango in Shizuma's head as she thought about all the red tape awaiting the both of them when they would have to close their joined bank account. And the furniture…and the paintings…the weird sculptures…she would gratefully let them to her ex.

_My ex…_ she felt a strange giddy feeling at the thought.

_My ex…_

Again the same weird feeling in her belly. She parked her car and walked to the building, a small smile on her face. Now she could openly flirt with Isis. Well, more than she was already doing. They were growing closer to each other; she had to admit it, if what happened in her lodge was any help. _Maybe…I can thank her around a drink._Drink or dinner? _Dinner…dinner is better._ Yes a dinner would definitely be better, they could talk like that. Yes talk.

And more if possible.

The smile turned into a devious grin. _I won't give up…_surely not when she was finally free. Shizuma nodded back when a random musician that was not part of her orchestra greeted her. Walking her way to the concert room she noticed the yawing door of Philip's office. The room was empty when she looked. _Odd…_her eyes fell on the jacket carefully put on the chair's back. It was the man's tuxedo jacket. Shizuma had seen him removing it and put it on the chair on Saturday_. He must have been forgotten it…_she tried to convince herself.

Something was out. And she felt it when she finally entered the concert room with a smoking cup of tea. Musicians were not ready. Spread in a few groups all of them stopped their talk when she entered. Shizuma darted her eyes over the heads as they were slowly joining their seats. _Isis__is missing…and Leslie as well?_ She did not like it. Suddenly feeling a pang of something toward the young man. And it was rather unpleasant. Of course they would be celebrating the concert, _in their own way_, and she knew it. The perspective of having dinner with Isis slowly faded away as the absence of the two violinists was being more noticeable when everybody settled.

"Hello guys," the conductor forced a smile. "I hope you had a good week-end," a few heads nodded and she took a sip from her cup. "I won't be harassing you today," Shizuma laughed. "You can relax. We will just talk about what was good and what needs to be improved for the next representations," she explained. "Though, this would be even more useful if everybody was here…" the woman added lowly. Not able to take it anymore she finally gave in. "Where is Isis?" She asked, desperately trying to suppress the concern in her voice.

Musicians looked bewildered at her. "You…" one finally tried. "You…don't know?"

"Know what?" Shizuma did not like this. At all.

The female musician looked at her fellows and then shrugged. "Well…" she started hesitantly, avoiding eye contact with the conductor.

"Yes?" She was getting impatient. _What's going on? What is it that you are hiding from me?_ Questions popped up in her head. The woman who spoke earlier opened her mouth but the sound of the front door being opened cut her.

Shizuma turned around to see Philip, his features drawn due to the lack of sleep. The warm smile he was always wearing was replaced by a thin line. He was obviously tired. But what surprised her the most was that the man was still wearing the same clothes as Saturday. _Something is wrong_, she thought, catching a sparkle of pity in his eyes when they met. Philip walked on the hallway and the conductor climbed off of her dais in order to join him. This atmosphere was heavy, and it felt strangely familiar. She did not like this feeling, for as she knew it all too well.

"What's going on, Philip?" Politeness was the last of her worries now.

He shook his head, stroking her arm sweetly to reassure her. "Not here. Let's go in my office," the man spoke with a voice she did not know him. It was so… uncertain.

Fear took the control of her body. "No," she said. "Tell me, please."

Philip gave her an apologetic look again. He leaned to her ear and whispered something. Shizuma's eyes grew wider as he spoke. The grip on the cup of tea loosened periodically letting it fall and shatter in pieces on the floor.

-0-

_Ether. Chloroform._ The smell was all too familiar. The walls all too bright and white. It was clean, yet she felt nauseous. Skin getting paler as she walked to the reception. Tears wanted to come out, but Shizuma fought them back. _She's not Kaori…_she repeated to herself like a mantra, _she's not Kaori_. Ten years. Ten years and this place still had a disastrous effect on her sanity. Shizuma had not set a foot in a hospital since then. She waited a bit, darting her eyes everywhere and tapping her fingertips on the wooden desk in impatience. Her patience tended to worn off pretty easily these days.

The secretary tore her glance from the screen and observed the young woman quickly. Her black eyes conveying nothing but pure boredom. Shizuma's own practiced their gymnastics on their own, trained by years of observation, she examined the woman darting her gaze in strategic places. Eyes. _Banal_. Nose. _Too big_. Lips._Too fine_. No, this girl was definitely not an eye candy. The conductor flashed her a dazzling smile nevertheless. She had the strange impression that she would be needing it.

The secretary did not smile back and gratified her with a long suspicious stare before speaking. "Can I help you, miss?"

Shizuma nodded, hiding her distress under a stoic and calm façade. Former Etoile's reflex. "Yes please. I... am looking for someone…" suddenly she remembered something. Something essential. She did not know Isis' surname. The concertmaster never bothered to tell her and she never asked. It's not like she ever needed it. Until now. The woman mentally scolded herself, completely forgetting the secretary who manifested her presence with a guttural noise.

"Looking for someone? Elaborate please," she said, not even a half concerned. This woman was just wasting her time.

Shizuma chuckled nervously. Something as rare as an eclipse. How could she tell that she was looking for someone with a goddess name and no surname without sounding crazy? Her fears reappeared as her face became suddenly grave. No, she did not have time to laugh nor think about the image that secretary might have of her. "Her name is Isis. She has been sent here on Saturday, I think. Could you please tell me where her room is?" Her tone was low.

Again this irritating lazy gaze darted on her for a few moments. Finally the sitting woman reached for her keyboard. "Surname."

She cleared her throat and looked away. "I...don't know." The secretary's brow quirked at her, silently asking if Shizuma was kidding.

"I cannot help you then, miss," the black haired woman said after a while, dismissing her.

"Please, could you at least lis—"

"Look, do you see this queue?" The woman cut her, "A lot of people are waiting as you can notice. Right now, you are wasting their time, as much as mine. I will ask you to come back later, miss," with that she completely ignored her and talked to another secretary who was just taking her shift.

Shizuma looked bewildered. She did not move from her spot, slowly registering what just happened. Something broke down inside her as her thoughts gathered together and she narrowed her eyes. A loud clap echoed in the room when her fist met the wooden desk, with a swift movement she reached for the secretary's collar and tugged it roughly toward her. Icy amber orbs met surprised brown's.

"You probably do not know who I am," she started with a threatening voice. "I will quickly sum it up to you, my dear. I can buy this place and fire you if I whim to do so. I have the power to make your life a complete hell in all legality. So much that you will bitterly regret the day you met me. And believe me when I say that I will do it without any remorse…" she smiled menacingly. "I actually would enjoy it _very_ much." She felt the woman fidgeting in her grip. _Good…_she waited a little bit and went on, "Of course, you can spare yourself this life of total misery, if you would tell me where I could find my friend." Shizuma released her grip on the collar and smoothed it, giving an innocent and polite smile to the secretary who nodded briskly.

"Isis, right?" The conductor acquiesced feeling relieved when she heard her tapping on the keyboard, a lot more focused on the screen. "This Saturday…." Shizuma saw the brown eyes lowering slowly as they were checking on the list. Too slowly to her taste, she could barely suppress the frustrating groan that formed at the back of her throat. _Come on!_"Ah! There it is. De Vasconcelos Isis, female, cranial trauma…" she was still speaking but the conductor had already stopped listening. _Trauma…cranial trauma…what happened? Did she fall? _No, Isis would not be that clumsy and simply fall, of course not. No, she shook her head. "…Still in surgery for the moment," this snapped Shizuma out of her thoughts and she turned her head to the secretary for more information. "It's the second surgery she has for her wrist."

"Her wrist?" Hadn't she just said cranial trauma? Fine, Shizuma might not be a doctor at all and her medical knowledge stopped at how to put a bandage but still, when did Isis grew a head on her wrist?

The secretary simply nodded, not giving any more details about it. She indicated another waiting room saying that a surgeon would come when Isis' surgery ends. Shizuma took her leave. Her eyes twinkled when she heard the sigh of relief coming from her back. She could barely bear the smell and felt nauseous again, but as always when her image and useless personal pride were involved she did not show it and walked her way to the room. _De Vasconcelos…? Sounds…_the woman's train or thoughts stopped here as she heard her name being shouted from the bottom of the waiting room. She had just the time to turn her head before being roughly pushed on the wall and raised from the ground by her collar, her feet dangling in the air.

Shining brown eyes reddened by tiredness met hers. "It's your fault…" Leslie hissed between his teeth, barely able to contain his anger. "She's in this state because of you!" He pushed her again against the wall. "You've ruined her!" Eyes glowering dangerously at her, he roughly shoved Shizuma to the wall again, shaking her like a simple puppet. "You've ruined her!" She never imagined that he might be so strong. Shizuma was not heavy, but still. Her vision blurred, things became an abstract mixture of colors. Ears began to buzz loudly, silencing the man's plea and she felt the lump in her belly making its way up. _Nausea…_after what seemed to be forever, she felt the grip on her coat loosening, then completely disappear as she fell ungracefully on the floor.

"…eave her alone, young man," a male voice made it through her buzzing. "What do you think you were doing?" Philip was giving his back to Shizuma. Standing in front of her, preventing Leslie to come any closer with a strong grip on the violinist. "Behave," he spoke loudly and doing his best to contain the yelling man. He dodged a menacing hand directed toward the conductor sill on the floor and tightened his grip. This could not go any longer "_Behave_!"

A deafening silence settled at Philip's shout.

It was the first time. The very first time that anyone heard him yelling. Still in her dozing, Shizuma lifted her head, looking at Leslie's bewildered expression. His limbs fell like boulders at his side. He allowed his eyes to close only to be blurred by tears when he opened them again. "She…she...I…"

"I know…" the manager soothed, taking the violinist in a gentle hug. "I know…" when he seemed to have regained a semblance of composure, Philip pulled back and looked straight into his brown eyes. "Young man, please you must be strong. Getting angry like this would be pointless. Do you think she would like it?" At the motion of 'she' the manager felt Leslie shivering. He glanced quickly at the violinist and spoke again, "You should take some rest."

"No, I..."

"You have been here for almost two days, young man," Philip hushed him gently. "Go back home, at least to change your clothes." Leslie was still wearing the clothes he wore after the concert, which consisted now in a crumpled and disordered mass of fabric. "I shall stay here and warn you if there is any news," he tapped the man's shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. "Now go."

Leslie nodded slightly after a few moments and sniffed. "You're right," he said faintly, lifting his head toward the man again and managing a weak smile. He then walked his way out without a single look at Shizuma.

She was barely standing on her shaking legs. Philip turned around and rushed to her to give some support. "Are you alright, Shizuma?" They walked together to the raw of flashy yellow seats. "Please forgive him."

"What happened?" She asked him with a desperate tone. "What happened? Why, why is she here? How…" her voice cracked, unable to say something more.

The manager stroked her lap gently. "Calm down, Shizuma." He felt her body tremble and took her hand in his own, massaging it slowly. They remained silent for a while, both of them deeply lost in their thoughts.

"Tell me, please." Shizuma broke the silence, her voice calmer this time.

Philip glanced at her and then stared at the opposite wall. White and too bright. "I… I found her lying on the floor of the bathroom. Unconscious. She was bleeding and her wrist…" he took a long breath to steady himself. "Her wrist was broken…pretty badly," he could not tell her. No, he could not tell her that Isis' wrist was more than broken. Philip felt it when he touched it, in a vain attempt to replace the bones. They were…shattered in pieces.

Shizuma's eyes widened. How could it have happened? How? Who? And most importantly why? Isis…Isis had no enemies from what she knew, or if she did, the concertmaster never mentioned about any. There has been that altercation with the cello a month ago…but it was a month ago and the woman seemed to have gotten over it. Both of them did.

"_You ruined her!"_

Leslie's words echoed in the conductor's head and it made her shiver. He was so…so passionate. It was this that frightened her the most, not his grip on her, but the things she saw in his eyes. The way they were glowering at her. He would be able. Yes, he would have been able to harm her seriously if there had been only the two of them. _He's…in love…._

Shizuma suddenly felt awful. She was starting to regret her actions bitterly. _Why? Why, do I need to be so stubborn?_ Isis made it clear since their very first meeting that she was not interested, yet the older woman was so blinded by her own illusions that she kept on trying, and trying, and insisting as the other was turning her down. Their relation had sure evolved, to a more friendly level but it was not enough for Shizuma. It's never enough. _Why do I need to push people on their edges…?_ Anger was starting to boil in her body. Anger directed toward herself. It was the very first time she was putting herself in question. First, there had been Miyuki and this forceful kiss. No, not just the kiss, all their scholarship when she was well aware of her best friend feelings and kept encouraging her with her behavior until Kaori arrived and then Shizuma, who was so _absorbed_by her new toy, completely forgot about the girl and broke her heart. Even more when Nagisa appeared in their lives, when the conductor was comforted in her sorrow trying desperately to hang on the sparkles of life and bright colors the red head was promising her. Forgetting again that she was not the only one to suffer of Kaori's death.

And yet, Miyuki forgave her. Miyuki stayed with her, proceeded to Shizuma's selfish wish to never ever leave her. Selfish. _I've always been so selfish…with everybody…so emboldened by my own desires…_she shook her head, _my selfish desires..._

And then, Nagisa. What to say about Nagisa? Except that the older woman had literally sucked life from her until the last drop, like a leech. That she hurt her like no one should be allowed to do. That she played with her feelings, toyed with her being and tossed her when her infatuation was decreasing. Hurting her until she lost her sanity.

Eyes widened suddenly at the realization, _Nagisa!_Of course Nagisa, who else? Spasms took control of Shizuma's body as she slowly understood what Leslie implied.

"_It's your fault."_

Jaw clenched and she started to breath heavily. "It's…" the tone was low. "It's Nagisa isn't it?" It was not a question. "It's her…"A squeeze answered her question, modesty preventing Philip to say anything.

Her own phase started there. How could she? How could she think that she would get through this so easily? Without feeling anything? Tears streamed in her eyes. "He was right," Shizuma spoke with a shaky voice, sobs wanting to escape her throat. "I ruined her."

A gentle arm circled the conductor's shoulders and pushed her toward Philip's chest. She cried. Silently, but she did. Crying her frustration, her fears and her shattered illusions. Cried as her mind drifted back to a more joyful time. Drifted back to the moment everything went down. To the first time, the very first time she cheated on Nagisa…

* * *

"What's written there?" An authoritative voice spoke. Repeating what it had been rambling for the past two hours. A slender wrinkled finger pointed again at the music sheet that was positioned on the piano.

"I…um…" the pianist student was trembling. Literally. "_Passionato?_" He unsurely asked even if he knew it was the right answer. The harmony teacher had this wonderful ability to make one forget everything. Even how to read words. He froze on his seat again when he felt her look drifting back and forth from the partition to his face.

"Exactly," she said after a while. "_Passionato,_" the woman emphasized each syllable of the words to discomfort her student a little more. "And what have you been playing?"

_This is a trap. _He thought to himself and then realized that whether he says the truth or not he would be screwed anyway. "I…um…di-d…err."

"Do not stutter, young man," the teacher cut him. "What _did_ you play?" Her patience was reaching its limits. It's never good when this happens. She tapped on the sheet again.

"_Passionato_," a small whisper came out of his throat. A cold glare froze him again as her head snapped at the student. She was literally burning a hole in his cranium.

"_Passionato_? _Passionato,_ you say?" A nod answered her question. "This…" she spoke coolly. " This is not passionato, my dear." The glare still settled on his head she went on. "This is what I call a musical _diarrhea_," emphasizing the word, a quick glance at her watch and the teacher continued. "You are just wasting my time, get out of my class."

Head lifted up as he tried to justify himself. "But—"

"I said get out. Right. Now."

He shook his head, defeated and rose from the piano seat. Packing his things he threw one last desperate look to the teacher who was already checking the list for her next victim. A wrinkled index perfectly short nailed scrolled the names and stopped at the middle of the page. Lips curved up in a half smile as she lifted her icy green eyes to her students.

Everybody froze, waiting for their fate. Some faces went pale when those eyes reached them. Others would just look down at their desk finding it suddenly very interesting and some again would put their books between them and the teacher's gaze.

Green eyes found what they were searching for and the smile widened a bit. "Miss Hanazono…" she said out loud as sighs of relief filled the classroom.

Bored amber eyes were counting the cars out of the window. They lazily drove their look back to the class when Shizuma heard something sounding like her name being called. She suddenly tensed up upon receiving a demanding stare. Rather icy, the stare.

_Damn._ The twenty-year old music student gave a small smile to the said stare. "Yes?" Shizuma asked, making sure that her voice was not conveying her state of mind. Because, within herself, she was trembling in fear. _I'm screwed…_

"Would you please come here and play?" The teacher kind of asked her. Yes kind of. Because, you just could not tell her no. So, it was not a question, rather a command in disguise.

_Think! Think, Shizuma!_ She glanced quickly at her music sheets, _Schumann?_She never liked him, and she did not study his piece at all, hence why her expression slowly dropped. _I'm dead this time._Shizuma rose from her seat, as slowly as she could as her mind was scanning the possible options to avoid what was going to be a magnificent slaughter. Her brain gave up on her and cowardly fled as she walked to the piano and settled.

"Schumann, opus 54," the teacher said, feeling irritated to see her student deliberately losing time.

Shizuma nodded and looked straight into the sheets before her, with a very serious face. But, in her head, it was rather like this: _Please, if there's anything up there listen to me, I know you want me to pay for the numerous bullshits I've done. And I definitely agree with you, but I would really like it if you would differ your punishment. Like, for example…in five years?_ Yes, five years sounds good, her studies would be finished so she would not have to worry about them anymore and Nagisa and she would finally be living together. Her heart warmed up at the thought. _Nagisa…_ she missed the red head. Damned promise she made to the sister last year! Why? Why did she say she would not sneak in the dorms anymore?

"Miss Hanazono?" The authoritative voice snapped Shizuma out of her thoughts. "Would you please come back from lala-land and _play_?" Her eyes were becoming more and more insistent.

A nod followed by an 'excuse me' and the young pianist straightened on her seat. _Listen,_she prayed again. _If you save my life now, I swear that I will make it up to you. I…_Shizuma searched for a good compensation in exchange. Suddenly her eyes lit up. _I will make unending love to Nagisa!_ What a great compensation indeed. Though that was one of the things Shizuma mastered at, and also the only one that came to mind. Satisfied with her negotiation with the Beyond, she caressed the keys, settling her hands on them…

The bell rang signaling the end of the course.

The teacher let annoyed sigh escape from her mouth. "Next time, Miss Hanazono."

Shizuma rose from the seat. Joy was creeping in her body that resulted in a victorious smile adorning her features. She walked to her place and quickly packed her stuff, in case the old woman would change her mind.

"Make sure you know the partition next time, Miss Hanazono. I won't miss you." The voice threatened, sending chills down everybody's spines, especially Shizuma's who nodded before leaving the room.

-0-

Miyuki has always been a hard worker. She worked hard to enter the prestigious school that was Miatre. She worked hard to stop being homesick when she was finally there. She worked hard to become council president and worked even harder when she took her functions. She worked hard for Shizuma and Kaori to become Etoiles, and she worked hard to replace the girl when she passed away so Shizuma could cry and crawl in peace, while Miyuki was suffering. In silence.

Yes, she has always been a hard worker indeed. For a special someone. For a special someone who was not noticing her at all. For a special someone who was living her life freely and especially with someone else. One would think that Miyuki had eventually gotten over Shizuma after two years of involvement. Well, one was wrong. Even more since she got married, the young woman was feeling this gap in her heart, a gap which was asking for a simple thing. To be filled.

She narrowed her eyes at the paper in front of her. The row of numbers meant something to her. Something that allowed her to think about anything else but her best friend. Another equation was solved, but the problem remained the same: Shizuma. Miyuki had this wild hope that maybe the day of her wedding, she would be here. Be here to steal her away like she did in this Etoile election. She was here indeed.

But Shizuma did not steal her away.

No, she kept observing her from afar, sympathizing with her best friend and throwing dagger eyes to the future husband. But dagger eyes are no harm, are they? They are only looks after all. Something broke inside Miyuki that day. That day when she finally realized Shizuma would never return her feelings. The woman resigned herself to live the life of a perfect spouse. Home, work, cook, pretend, smile and take care of the children once her husband's little army would have made its way down her belly. A great life in perspective. She did not stutter when she pronounced the fatidic _I do,_ nor did she look at the man who would be sharing her life - and bed - until death does them apart. The only moment she looked at him was at their hotel room when desperation and fear were slowly taking control of her body as she was realizing what being _married_ to someone meant.

Miyuki was not ready. Not for that. Not now. Not like that. With her last remaining strength, she stood in front of him. She stood _against_ him. Little did she know that the poor man wanted no harm, and when she realized it, she broke down. Literally. Crying like she never did. Crying for herself, for not being able to fight when it was the right time, for letting her life being dictated like a little puppet and especially for allowing Shizuma to go away from her. Hating her for not giving them a slight chance. Hating herself for being a simple spectator. Spectator of her own life.

But nothing changed since then.

She was still watching her life from the screen of her illusions and sagely obey her parents' commands. They knew better than her after all, didn't they?

_No they don't_, a voice protested in her head. _They never did and they never will because the only one who knows what is best for you is yourself._ Unfortunately this little voice was rarely if ever listened to. Miyuki shut her mind – as always when it was not following her reason - and focused on the paper in front of her.

"There," Dennis walked to her table a moment after, bringing warm drinks for the both of them. He took a sip of his and settled comfortably on the chair next to her. "You get it?" The man pointed the papers Miyuki was working on.

She thanked him politely. "I do," a gentle smile spread her lips. "It's not as difficult as it seems to be in reality," Miyuki explained.

Dennis hummed a bit in approval, scratching his freshly shaved chin. He then leaned forward to look at those mysterious curves. Focused. Very focused, brows furrowed jaw clenched and all that. After two minutes of complete stillness he sighed, leaning backward this time.

"What language is this?" He asked seriously.

The woman was bewildered by the question. "Dennis…it's math."

"Really?"

Miyuki nodded and he chuckled heartily to hide his embarrassment. It was a very communicative laugh actually and the young woman felt her features relaxing and smiled again. A real one this time.

She had to admit, Dennis did not fit the image of the husband she had pictured in her head during all those years when her life was still in standby. She knew he was older than her even before meeting him, but it turned out the man was only twenty when she thought she would be living with a grandpa. He had a good and intelligent conversation when she pictured her husband being a complete airhead who would be using _her _knowledge to success and reap all the merits. No, he was not, he even encouraged her to continue her studies after the graduation stating that they were still too young to have this kind of boring couple life and that he would not forgive himself if she did not do what she wanted to do.

What she wanted to do…

_What do I want?_

Miyuki looked at Dennis who was now reading one of his numerous books about Ancient Rome. He was a nice guy and very caring. Did she love him? No. No because Shizuma was still haunting around the place in her heart. Could she love him one day? That was a question the young woman was unable to answer. She liked him even if she was not showing it at all. Having this natural distrust toward the people she did not know very well, just like a frightened animal. Though, Miyuki felt the young man wanted her no harm. After all, he did not touch her since their wedding…

At all.

She started to chew on her pen at the thought. Sure Miyuki was not going to complain about it but a part of her was still slightly irritated by his lack of…desire? Toward her. She quickly ejected the gay option the day she found some _colorful_ magazines carefully hidden. _Then why? Could it be that he's got someone else?_ It was possible, after all it was an arranged wedding, a fusion of two corporations, and love was not part of the contract. They never talked about their love life, or their life _tout court_ for that matter. They were talking yes, but modestly avoiding those subjects. And if she was the one asking, Miyuki would have to tell him about her ghost one, and Shizuma.

And she was not ready for that either.

_How could I say it anyway? Hello, darling I have to tell you something, I was hopelessly in love with my best friend in high school. Oh? I haven't told you yet? It was a__ private single-sex girls' school; yes this makes me technically a lesbian. I say technically because Shizuma did not love me back, so do not worry!_ Miyuki shook her head, suppressing the bitter laugh that wanted to escape. She had to find a solution not to think about Shizuma anymore, a sustainable solution.

She looked at Dennis again. He was completely absorbed by his book, eyes twinkling and lips half curved up in this very cute ghost smile he always wore when he was enjoying something. Miyuki surprised herself when she realized that she actually _noticed_ this habit of his. _How did…?_ No, it did not occur her that after two years of living with someone you obviously catch little things like that.

"…ould come?" Dennis' soft voice drew Miyuki out of her thoughts.

She shook her head slightly. "I'm sorry?"

"Didn't Shizuma say she would come?" He repeated, brows furrowed. "Am I so boring that I make you doze off?" A light chuckle came from his throat at Miyuki's expression. "I'm kidding, don't worry…" Dennis was going to speak again when he noticed a glimpse of silver hair entering the café.

Miyuki followed his gaze and felt her lips parting in a small smile when she saw Shizuma. It almost dropped as she noticed Nagisa following her girlfriend closely. She was still wearing her Miatre uniform, her eyes lit up when they fell on the table – and incidentally on the cakes. They both sat in front of Dennis and Miyuki as Nagisa's look was still glued to the cakes, Shizuma noticed it and, upon greeting her friends she took a tiny chocolate tart and gave it to her girlfriend, chuckling lightly. Nagisa flushed at the gesture.

"T-thank you, Shizuma."

The older girl moved closer and circled Nagisa's neck with her hand; she then leaned her head forward and gratified her with a long kiss on her left temple. "You're welcome…" she whispered. That whisper meant something. Something the girl understood quickly as she grew to know Shizuma. Yes, Nagisa knew…

That they would not get any sleep tonight.

A quick glance at the sparkling amber eyes comforted her assumptions and her cheeks suddenly flushed bright red.

"So, how is the future famous pianist doing?" Dennis broke their little love bubble as he noticed that Miyuki's good mood was slowly fading away at the sight of the couple.

Shizuma turned her head to face him and smiled. He had become a good friend of her throughout the years, not only because he was engaged to her best friend. She had this feeling that they would have been friends no matter the situation. And Dennis was funny, Shizuma also had this fear that behind his kind face, the man would be an abusive bastard, but those were unfounded fears as Miyuki explained her that he never touched her _that way_. Or the other, for that matter.

_Miyuki…_

_If only she would notice it_…Shizuma thought, defeated. Dennis was shy, and modest, just like his wife. But he was also head over heels in love with her. He never told Shizuma about it, but she knew the way he was looking at her. It was the way she used to look at Kaori. The way she hoped to look at Nagisa, someday. She smiled at the thought and circled the red head's waist with an arm, discreetly under the table.

"I am only a student for the moment, Dennis," she answered him, taking a sip of Miyuki's drink nonchalantly. Under the gaze of her friend. Shizuma took the book the man was reading and threw it away. "And _you_ work too much," she laughed at his distressed features. "Relax, Dennis."

"I can't," he pleaded. "There's a convention I would like to go and for this…" Dennis reached for his book. "I have to work, you see," he dusted off the cover and opened it again. "Alas mortals such as me don't have your great and enviable knowledge, Miss Hanazono," his lips curved up when he sat down.

Shizuma glanced at him for a moment, a skeptical expression on her face. "You're talking about sex here, right?" That was enough to make the two of them laugh hysterically.

"Oh, please!" Miyuki released a desperate sigh while Nagisa flushed red again. Dennis received a punch on his shoulder and winced while Shizuma got a shy squeeze on her hand.

"When is it," Shizuma asked, finally calmed down. She let the red head order drinks for the both of them. "Your convention, when is it?"

Dennis had been rambling about it for months now, stating that as a future historian this convention was an opportunity he could not afford to miss, there would be leading researchers seeking assistants and this would be the chance of his life. Even if it meant be someone's minion for the next ten years. Truth be told, Shizuma was more than impressed by the man's determination and faith in his work, she could tell he really loved what he was doing. Something she was desperately trying to do with her own. Sure she liked music and piano, but she was not entranced by it. Not like she should be anyway. Maybe, one day this would change.

"I still don't know," he took a sip from his drink. "But it will take place in Milan."

"So you will be able to hit on sexy and gorgeous Italians!" Shizuma half laughed. Actually she would so do it if she was there, and if there wasn't, um, Nagisa. _I am only a human being_, she explained to conscience so it would not feel bad about it.

This remark earned her a death glare from Miyuki that made her shiver. The pianist quirked one brow and smirked. _Jealous?_

Dennis ignored their exchange and shook his head. "It's a professional trip," he waited a bit before adding lowly, "Besides, I am married," and blushing. Yes, blushing and this amused Shizuma not to end.

They kept talking about this and that for a while, arguing when someone was being stubborn and then bursting in laughter.

-0-

A practiced tongue made its torturous way on a burning skin. Deliberately tempting and driving Nagisa to the edge of insanity. It was close to midnight and the couple had spent most of their afternoon and night in bed. Oh, no she would not complain about it for as the red head knew Shizuma's sexual appetite all too well. It had frightened her at first, being the young and innocent girl that she was before getting shamelessly perverted by her lover. But the older woman had always been gentle, and caring of her desires. More than anything else she never pushed her girlfriend to do anything she was not ready for. They were making love, not just having sex. And Nagisa treasured each seconds of those moments spent with her.

The adventurous tongue licked its way up to reach her throat where teeth started to nibble at the sensitive skin there. Shizuma's hand was ghost caressing her ribs before it fell down on her belly, and lowered again. Nagisa whimpered loudly and her eyes immediately shut. She knew she was being observed. She could even imagine amber eyes twinkling due to the ego boost and the devious smirk on Shizuma's face. The red head felt strange at first to let someone touch her like that or even look at her in this state. But time had passed since their first time and she was finding it very exciting now. Another moan escaped when those slender fingers played their magic trick. Her whole body was getting hot…and sore too because of the older woman's over enthusiasm and ardor in her _work_. Not that she would complain about it.

Fingers finally thrust into her with possessiveness, but always gentle. Shizuma shifted in place to hover Nagisa's body before pressing against it, moving with the red head's leg trapped in between hers. Slowly at first, keeping the same pace as her fingers to be able to look at her flustered features. Nagisa was always a little embarrassed when she looked at her that way, and Shizuma loved it. But soon enough, the woman lost control of herself, fingers going deeper and harder at each thrust. Her rocking increased too and eyelids shut themselves, unable to stay open.

Nagisa's mind went blank and she gave in. It was like... falling into an endless precipice, that's how it always felt for her. A loud high pitched scream resonated in the room. Shaking, she inwardly gridded her leg a little harder on Shizuma which pushed the older woman on the edge as well and made her fingers curl up inside the red read, causing her to come again for a second time.

_Ow!_ Her back arched on its own, stretching the already sore muscles. Nagisa fell on the bed again, quickly followed by Shizuma's dead weight. "I…" the girl panted heavily. "…Thought I was… going to die."

Silver strands tickled her when her girlfriend moved her head toward her chest to listen. "It's still beating." Very fast though.

Nagisa chuckled at the remark. Amber eyes gazed at her again and Shizuma kissed her nose. "I love you…" she whispered.

It has always made its little effect on the red head as the other was not someone to say those kinds of things very often. She preferred action. Words were words. They were meaningless. They could fool you. Draw a wonderful bubble of illusions. Oh, she had used them back in Astrae. Mercilessly trapping those virginal flowers into her cage. A cage which had trapped her at Kaori's death. They were sharing her burden, if not for a few incandescent hours. Or days if her infatuation was a little stronger than usual. But never more than a month. It was her so unreachable limit.

Nagisa had exploded it.

She smiled again at the younger girl and settled comfortably by her side, a protective arm wrapped around her waist. Ready to sleep, Shizuma closed her eyes when a voice drew her out of her slumber.

"It's soon…," Nagisa said, looking at the ceiling.

_Soon?_ Her face puzzled. _What's—oh yes._ Their two years anniversary. _Soon indeed… has it been two years already?_ _Time goes so fast…_ she still remembered their first encounter beneath this tree. The first time she saw Nagisa, this little electroshock passing through her hand that she misinterpreted for another meaningless and ephemeral infatuation. _Meaningless and ephemeral…_she wanted to laugh at herself now for being so foolish.

"Yes it is," Shizuma answered. What present could she give her? An image of the silky sand colored scarf popped up in her head and warmed her heart. She tightened her embrace on Nagisa's waist. Yes. She had to find something for her girlfriend. Something great. Something the red head would remember all her life.

The pianist smiled before drifting to sleep. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," the weight shifted and Nagisa positioned her head on her chest.

-0-

Morning courses were over and Shizuma was peacefully vegetating on a couch in the cafeteria with a smoking mug of red tea and a random magazine. Actually she was deeply thinking about what to offer to Nagisa. Something that would tell her how much she counted in the woman's heart. How much place she took in her life.

_A ring?_

Nah, too formal. She shook her head.

_A necklace?_

Too banal.

Her eyes drifted on a random student sitting in a table, gazing longingly at her plate.

_Something edi__ble!_

Exactly.

Nagisa was a hearty eater and a sucker for patisseries. On her week-ends when she was allowed to go out of the dorms, she would experience her cooking skills at home. For now, it hasn't been brilliant to speak the truth. But Shizuma not wanting to hurt her girlfriend feelings was just eating whatever radioactive food coming out of the oven and forcing a smile, internally praying God she would not fall sick.

Brows furrowed as she thought about her present. _How about…a culinary week?_ Could be good, but not enough. _In another country?_ Amber eyes lit up and she nodded to herself. Like that Nagisa could fulfill her dream to eat endlessly and change her usual surrounding. Plus they would have an entire week for themselves alone. No school. No stress. No pieces to learn by heart. Good idea. Shizuma reached for her bag and grabbed her laptop seeking two tickets for Bordeaux in France. Best place for the best cuisine. Fine Nagisa might not take the language in her heart but Shizuma could always be her very own personal translator.

-0-

He folded the last t-shirt and put it in the bag. Not heartily at all to say the truth. Dennis sighed. Torn between joy and sadness. Joy because he was going to this convention and realizing a part of his dream. Sadness because he was leaving Miyuki. Said wife who did not seem to be affected by his departure at all. Or so she made it seem.

Because actually she was.

Spending two years with someone non-stop even if this someone happened to be a complete stranger for you, it obviously bonds you. Not obligatory romantic feelings; but simply feelings. But those dear two people being trapped in their modesty, family pride and God knows what again were too shy to ever admit they cared for each other. Maybe not in the same way. Maybe not realizing it yet. But they did.

Another sigh and Dennis closed the bag, looking at the mirror. He hadn't shaved for days now and his new beard was giving him a certain presence and charisma. He also looked slightly older, maybe twenty-six. _Good_, he thought to himself. This would help him not to look like a lost lamb seeking a thirsty wolf - also as known as historian - to feed. The man scratched his head wondering if he had not forgotten something.

"Ready?" Miyuki's soft voice echoed from the threshold of their bedroom. Yes soft. But for him alone.

He nodded, feeling sad again. No, he did not want to leave, even for a week. Maybe if he had had the guts to ask her to come with him in the first place…Dennis shook his head. _You're stupid. Stupid and a coward._ The man did not want to lose what he had patiently built the past two years. This understanding between them. The way that she would sometimes let go of her usual self and just laugh at his jokes. Or simply at Dennis himself. In those moments he could see a glimpse of the real Miyuki. Not the cold and formal façade she kept for the rest of the world._ I must be happy with what I have already…_he tried to convince himself.

"Shizuma said she would be a little late," Miyuki went on. "We should wait for her at the airport."

Dennis nodded again. "I guess she did not tell Nagisa about her coming until now…"

And the man was right. The pianist did not and was bitterly regretting it now as she gazed at the locked door of the bathroom from where the red head's cries were echoing.

"Nagisa, open the door. Please," head leaned on the wood; Shizuma was actively trying to open the knob but in vain. "Nagisa…" the woman tried again. "Please let me at least explain you…"

"You already have!" A shaky voice answered. More cries again. "It was supposed...supposed to be our week Shizuma. Ours!"

A pang of guilt shot through the older woman's body. She knew all too well it was their week. She had had reserved the hotel, bought the tickets. Everything was ready. Planned. They would just get there and share their time between the bed in their hotel room and the culinary week. And play the tourists in the city. Yes that was it.

_Except that…_

Except that Shizuma had been contacted by influent people in the profession. They had assisted to her concert last year and were quite impressed of her talents. Thus they made an offer that was just impossible to refuse. A master class of a week with nothing less than the best musicians playing the teachers for them. Them meaning a few privileged music students handpicked from different schools and conservatories over Europe. So no, she just could not say no.

They did not give a date when she accepted and Shizuma only got her planning last week. Since then the woman had been fighting with herself to try and find a good way to announce her that their anniversary week was most likely dead. Finally she settled on the worst moment ever and decided to tell her after love. Worst. Moment. Ever.

"Nagisa," she said again. "Nagisa please, try to understand. It's…it's important for me," the pianist has always tried to introduce her girlfriend to her world. That was the reason why she brought her over at her first concert in the first place. And that's why Shizuma was hoping that she would understand.

"It's more important than us to your eyes!" The red head shot back through the door. The older woman sighed. She could not fight against this clichéd sentence. But that was not over. No because in four seconds, Nagisa would say the words that would turn a simple argument into a cold war and set both of their fates for the next five years. "You just want to get away from me!"

Three seconds.

"No I don't!" Shizuma clenched her fist on the door. "How can you say that?"

Two seconds.

"I can because you said it!" The older woman's face puzzled suddenly. "In the café with Dennis."

Brows furrowed again. "Nagisa, it was a joke! And I said he would get to flirt with girls, not me!" _So that was all about it? Her fears? Jealousy?_

One second.

The bathroom door opened slightly letting Nagisa's puffy face and red eyes appear. She sniffed. "But you wish you could, right?" It was not a question. "You wish you could get back to your former life." She was referring to how Shizuma was living before Kaori stormed in her life. This carefree existence punctuated by shallow relationships with upperclassmen. "All those girls around you, it was great wasn't it?" The red head knew she touched a sensitive sting when Shizuma winced. It was the first time she ever talked to her like this. "If that's what you want, then go."

"Nagisa..." she tried again to reason her. Hurt was pouring through her eyes and she just hoped her voice would not convey it. "Nagisa, please don't say that."

"Why?" The red head asked while sniffing again. "Isn't that true?"

"No…" _it is…_ "It's not…" Shizuma said soundlessly. "It's not!" She repeated a little louder.

"Then why aren't you looking at me in the eyes when you say that?"

Shizuma's head snapped up at her. "Is it really what you think, Nagisa?" She wanted an answer. An honest answer.

The red head shook her head. "It's not what I think…" she started lowly. "It's…what you are."

Over.

This felt like being punched. Straight in the stomach. Shizuma shook her head trying to get those hurtful words out of her head, but it did not work. She looked straight in Nagisa's eyes, this time hiding nothing of her distress. Why was she saying that? Is it really what she thought? What she thought of her? What she was for the red head? A…a what?

_Whore__…_

The word popped up in her head and a stifled cry escaped from her throat. Nagisa finally recovering her reason realized what she implicitly and tactlessly implied. "Shizuma…" she whispered, but it was too late. It was done.

Shizuma looked down with an unreadable face. She frowned, eying the read head. "I have to go." The woman turned around and walked to the door, legs pitching slightly. She stopped on her tracks, waiting – hoping - for some kind of reaction from Nagisa, but the red head was frozen on the spot with eyes wide. A tear ran out on her cheek when the pianist closed the door behind her.

_What have I done?_

-0-

Shizuma had not said a word when she arrived at the airport. She faintly greeted her friends and hugged Miyuki to say goodbye. She slept during all the flight, efficiently creeping Dennis out once or twice because he was not hearing her breathing. Needless to say that she was in a complete blur to when she went to the registration for the master class where she was informed of a recital the students would have to perform at the end of the week. By pair. The woman came back to her hotel where she met up with Dennis and accepted his invitation to dinner. There they were now, both deeply lost in their thoughts about their loved one.

_I miss her…._

_Why did she say that?_

A waiter broke their little bubble when he put their second plate on the table.

_Three more to go…_Shizuma sighed to herself. Italian cuisine was delicious and she has always loved it. But now, the pianist was not feeling like eating at all. Curling into a ball hidden in a blanket and weep was more appealing to her at the moment. She took the fork, the spoon and started to toy with the pasta absent-mindedly.

"What's wrong?" Dennis finally dared to ask. Counter to Shizuma in this kind of situation, the man tended to turn into a huge walking stomach. Which was why his plate was already half emptied.

The pianist kept eyeing her pasta. "Nagisa…" the words echoed again in her head and she closed her eyes. "Nagisa and I had an argument," she breathed.

Dennis swallowed before speaking. "Thought so," and put his cutlery down. "A bad one?" he saw her looking away at the window, nodding slightly.

Shizuma and he had been friends for a while now. Though, the man had to admit that she frightened him at first. Not only was she one of the most beautiful women his eyes ever landed on, but Shizuma had also this incredible strength, this force coming from nowhere that was giving her so much presence. Her elegance and her grace while doing the most futile things were bewitching as well. But for sure, if it was her that he had to marry he would have refused. Why? Because it was Shizuma Hanazono and Shizuma Hanazono doesn't need anyone. Let alone a man.

That was his first impression though.

Because when he came to acknowledge her better – when she realized that he was actually a good guy – the man discovered the_ woman_. Not the brand. He discovered her humor and intelligence, her more fragile side. The one she hides behind her smiles. How her past had molded her personality and how Dennis was wrong. Sure she was Shizuma Hanazono. But Shizuma, just like everybody, needed someone by her side. A role Nagisa was filling perfectly. For now that is.

Dennis took a sip of his drink while thinking. "Arguments…are part of life," he tried. "Couple life I mean…"

"I've never heard you having one with Miyuki," Shizuma replied not convinced at all by his explanation. Or tentative of comfort.

"We're not a couple," the man admitted lowly, gazing at his plate.

"But you wish you were," she said softly. Dennis opened his mouth before closing it and nodding slightly, always avoiding her eyes. Slender fingers approached his. He finally lifted his head to meet an understanding smile. "It's fine," she added.

A question popped up in his head suddenly. "How…how did you become friends?"

"We used to sleep together." Shizuma replied without missing a beat.

Dennis' face dropped. "Oh…"

She let him a few seconds of confusion before précising. "Not that way." A sigh of relief came out of his mouth and the pianist went on. "She was homesick and would spend all her nights crying in the corridors." Shizuma laughed at the thought. "So much that a rumor started to grow about them being haunted."

Dennis mirrored her and chuckled. _She must have been so different back then…_he would have loved to know the little Miyuki.

"I once proposed her to sleep next to me," the woman spoke again. "She did not cry that night and the ones that followed. It must have started from there on." There was a silence as Shizuma looked at the man with such intensity that he blushed. He was still a man after all. "Give her time, Dennis," she said solemnly.

He nodded briskly. After all, they were still young, weren't they? He could wait for her. A lifetime if needed, because Miyuki was worth it. "And you should call Nagisa," the man replied.

Amber eyes widened before averting his gaze. Maybe…maybe she should after all? Make the first step again. They could find a way to solve it out, maybe. But for that, the two women needed to _talk_. Yes, maybe it was only a misunderstanding, a simple _quiproquo_… right? Shizuma nodded after a while, feeling slightly better. "I will."

"Good."

She smiled at Dennis before furrowing her brows. "You have…," the woman reached for her napkin and wiped the man's chin slowly. "Here."

They shared a moment of silence before he thanked her and darted his eyes around him. Everybody was looking at them with fond smiles on their features. It's only at this moment that Dennis realized how couple-y Shizuma and he looked. "Shall we go?" He cleared his throat, blushing a little bit.

Shizuma's face puzzled at his reaction until she looked around as well, meeting the equally fond smiles and knowing gazes. "Ah…" and nodded. "Yes, yes."

Dennis paid the bill and they walked their way out silently. It's only when they reached the streets that they both burst in laughter. They spent a few hours wandering in the city until the man proposed they would come back to their hotel. It was getting late after all, and both of them had to wake up early.

That night in her room, Shizuma kept staring at her phone for a long time until slender fingers finally dared to dial the number they knew by heart. The pianist waited as a ring tone succeeded to another ring tone until Nagisa's over cheerful voice echoed in her ear to inform her that the red head was not available and that she should leave a message after the beep.

_Beep._

Shizuma dropped the receiver.

-0-

She strangely felt like returning to high school. Except that there were boys. Lots of boys. Lots of lustful stares as well, but Shizuma got used to them throughout the years. It did not matter much and the pianist silently walked to the last row, choosing a strategic seat just next to the window. A loophole to boredom as always. She sat, grabbing a notepad and a pen from her bag like an assiduous student that she was not. Amber eyes were scanning the room silently as her ears caught snippets of conversations spoken in several languages. German, English, French, Spanish and of course Italian. The ambient cacophony was bothering her actually. Shizuma would have gladly joined it if only she did not already have had something on her mind. Someone in fact. Someone with red hair. The pianist checked her phone again for the fifth time this morning and like the four other times, the screen was empty. No calls missed. No messages. Nothing. She sighed and turned the phone off for the class time.

"Can I…?" A singing voice said in English coated with a soft Italian accent.

Shizuma's head turned in its direction to meet a friendly smile and twinkling emerald eyes. "Excuse me?" She responded. Amber eyes wandered against her will on the young woman standing next to her. Reflex. She had light brown wavy hair and luscious lips. Details Shizuma would have preferred to ignore. But again, she was only human. What could she do?

She pointed at the empty seat. "Can I?"

"Oh," Shizuma dozed off for a few seconds. "Of course," she removed her bag to let enough room to the woman to settle.

"_Grazie_," she sat down and a sweet scent reached the pianist nostrils. It was her perfume.

"_Prego_." Shizuma answered absent-mindedly and felt those emerald eyes staring at her. She eyed back in silence until the other gave in and finally burst in laughter out of the blue. The pianist looked shocked for a moment before chuckling as well.

"Alessandra," the Italian accent sang as the woman outstretched her right hand. The friendly smile appearing again.

The pianist mirrored her, lips curving up. "Shizuma," and politely shook her hand. They both discreetly scanned each other's hands when they intertwined.

_Pianista…_

_Clarinet… _

Reflex again. Musician reflex this time. Fear of the competition. But since they were competing in different categories the two women smiled to each other again.

"Where are you from?" Alessandra asked while taking a piece of paper and a pen from her case.

"Royal College," the pianist answered, knowing perfectly what the question implied. As expected, emerald eyes snapped back at her and the woman whistled in amazement.

"Smart head," the musician teased, her accent getting thicker.

Shizuma chuckled and shook her head in all humility. Faked of course. "And you?" She finally asked.

"_Parlermo. Siccilia_," Alessandra replied with a little smile. "It's a pretty long road from your little island to here."

"Indeed," the pianist nodded.

"At least in mine we have the sun," she joked again, electing another chuckle from her interlocutor.

The pseudo-teacher entered and interrupted the women's chit-chat. It was a round guy, probably forty and visibly not at ease with so many people watching him from that close, if the little drops on sweat collecting on his forehead were any help. Shizuma made a face. _Ew…_

"Hello ladies and gentlemen," he spoke in English. "Welcome to this master class…ehm." He put his case on the front desk. "I…I will be your harmony teacher for the w-week."

_It will change from that old woman, at least…_the pianist sighed.

"A-as you already know," the man began to scour in his case nervously. "Y-you will have to perform a piece with an assigned partner. The list h-has already been do-done…" he grabbed a crumpled piece of paper and tried to smooth it with one hand. The stares directed toward him were making the teacher more and more uncomfortable. Shizuma completely dozed off when he started to pair up the students with each other. After twenty minutes of stutters and nervous coughs, it was finally the turn of the Royal College.

"Pianist Miss Hanazono, Royal College…" Head snapped up to identify her as a fatty index followed an invisible line to the other name next to it. "…Violinist Miss De Vasconcelos, Paris," again the man looked up and scanned the room. "Miss De Vasconcelos?" Silence answered him. "Not here?" He tried again, to be sure. "Fine then…" the fatty finger continued its journey to the name above. "Miss De Valmont?" Silence again. The man furrowed his brows. "Not here as well?" He sighed. _Impolite young brats…_that were given such an inestimable chance to be part of this class and just decided to drop it. The man knew he would have killed to be here if he was at their place. "Who could represent Paris fo—"

"Me." A hand lifted in the third row, breaking the silence. Shizuma turned her head to its owner. A man around her age. She could only see his back, but from the lustful female looks that it was attracting, the pianist easily understood that he was all but funny looking. "Me," the calm voice repeated.

The teacher looked at him. "You?"

He nodded. "I mean…if it's okay. I am from Paris…and I'm violinist too."

Shizuma quickly identified his accent. No he was not French, no. _A New Yorker…what is he doing in Paris?_

The fatty finger checked the list again and the student got the clue. "Thomas," he answered the tacit question. "Thomas Brown."

Head nodded when finally finding the name. "Indeed. Miss Hanazono, no objection?'" She shook her head. "It's settled then."

The rest of the class went smoothly and Shizuma shared her time between dozing off and talking with Alessandra.

-0-

The first five days passed like wind. The pianist would go to school, take a drink with her newfound Italian friend after the courses and then go to practice with that women's magnet violinist. As for Dennis, they would meet up in the hall of their hotel and spend a few hours in the city, by night. The reason why she was not inviting Alessandra to join them was that the woman had clarified her intentions toward her throughout the days but Shizuma was playing dense, a way to push her away without seeming to, nor hurting the girl's feeling. But this evening Dennis was not here. Shizuma walked to the lift with a puzzled face. His door was half open but she knocked nevertheless.

"Dennis?"

"Coming," his voice echoed from the bathroom.

His suitcase was on the bed, opened and filled with clothes. _What's...?_ Shizuma opened her mouth to speak when Dennis came back from the bathroom, shaved and with his belongings. "Hey," he greeted before packing his things and closing his luggage.

The woman looked at him bewildered, darting her eyes from him to the suitcase on the bed. "What are you doing?"

Dennis smiled sheepishly, scratching his neck. "I have to go, Shizuma," the pianist said nothing and he went on. "I have to go. I can't stay here. I just...have to tell her." _To tell her not to be afraid of me anymore... _He thought he would be able to make it. A week was not that long after all, was it? Well, it was for him. And after a night of hard thinking, Dennis finally decided to be strong. To be a man and a bold one. Screw this modesty of his; he will be able to say it. Find the words and say it.

It took a few moments for Shizuma to understand what he was implying, and when she did her lips curved up in a sweet smile. "You took your sweet time, you know," he chuckled while blushing slightly. "You have my benediction," she winked.

Dennis' eyes widened. Her approval really meant a lot for him. He knew the two women had a very close relationship. Something of their own that no one else could understand. They were not lovers, yet they were not simple friends. It was something higher, something stronger. This was not a simple benediction, no. It meant Shizuma accepted Dennis as a member of her own family, and this was very important for him. The man walked to Shizuma and hugged her. "Thanks," he whispered before kissing her cheek.

They stayed like that for a moment until the pianist dared to break the silence. "Dennis?"

"Yes?"

"I think you can put me down," she laughed.

"Oh..." the man did as told before joining the laughter. "Sorry," he added. "I got carried away."

They walked together to the hall. "Good luck," Shizuma, she tapped his shoulder. "You will need it."

He laughed again and disappeared in a taxi.

The woman had just the time to take a shower after he left before being interrupted by a knock at the door. Furrowed brows let their place to a surprised expression at the sight of Alessandra standing on the threshold.

"_Salute!" _ Shizuma kept staring silently and she spoke again. "The guys are going to a nightclub and I...," the luscious lips tugged upward. "...Thought we could join them," she buried her hands in the pockets of her skinny jean, swinging her weight from one leg to another in a cute pose. "So what do you say? You're in?"

The pianist said nothing. Thinking. Pondering with herself while eyeing the other. She would. Yes, give in this sweet temptation if...if her reason was not bitching in her head right now. Her eyes snapped back to the phone thrown carelessly on the bed and Shizuma cleared her throat. "I will pass," she gave an apologetic smile to the woman. "I'm a little tired actually, so I think I am just, you know, going to collapse on the bed," she joked.

Alessandra's smile dropped a little bit. "Oh… okay," she passed her hand through her hair, flipping it to one side absent-mindedly, absolutely not aware of how of a turn on this gesture was for her interlocutor who cleared her throat again. Or maybe she was… "Next time maybe?" She said after giving a faint smile.

Shizuma was dozing off in the world of her fantasies right now and thus it took her a little time to answer. "Yes…" _No._ "Sure." _Or I will give in…_ "Have a pleasant night." Alessandra waved goodbye and she closed the door, leaning back against it while taking deep breaths and shutting her eyes.

"_It's…what you are…"_

Amber orbs snapped open at the words. _No…no it's not. _It is. _It's not! _Shizuma shook her head vigorously in a vain attempt to end up the fight going on within her. Heart. Self. Heart versus self. Or was it really? Was it her heart that was telling her not to do it…or her reason? Her mind? Was Nagisa her true limit against the temptation, or was it her conscience? Was it love, fear or guilt which prevented her to cross the path? Legs gave in under her weight and she fell on the floor, head buried in her arms. "It's not…," she repeated quietly, voice quivering. "It's not."

Taken by a sudden frenzy, the woman rushed to the phone and dialed Nagisa's number feverishly. And again this irritating voice and abominable beep informing Shizuma of the red head's absence.

"Nagisa…" she said in a distressed tone. "Nagisa, please answer me. I need…I need to talk to you," she breathed. "Answer me…" the woman whispered again before hanging up and curl into a ball.

Falling into a restless sleep, Shizuma cheated. In every possible ways and with countless partners, she trampled on the trust she was blindly given. A dream does not last more than a few minutes, yet the woman had the feeling it lasted for hours. And when her brain finally decided to stop torturing her, the woman opened her eyes, gasping and sweating in the dark room surrounded by silence.

_It was only a nightmar__e._ Shizuma tried to comfort herself..._Only a nightmare._

A nightmare really? Or a dream picturing her repressed fantasies?

-0-

The last day, Shizuma did not show up at school. Finding an excuse and thus avoiding Alessandra. Or at least for a few hours, because even if she did not want, the pianist had to be part of the recital, if only not to waste an intensive week of practice with this Thomas. So she went. Waited for their tour to come and then played this _Sonata for Violin and Piano_ of César Franck with amazing technique and faked interest because her mind was away, deciphering Alessandra's curves through her dress, mercilessly giving her a taste of what she was missing. What she could have with a slightest effort on her part.

The applause eventually drew Shizuma out of her dozing and back to the reality. She bowed, flashing her brand smile to the audience and shook the violinist's hand absent-mindedly before disappearing in the backstage to dress casually and join her hotel. With the hope of not being seen by the temptation incarnated, the pianist reached for the exit door. This was without reckoning with the firm desire of the said temptation to find her. Which she did, catching her in the hall of Shizuma's hotel and using her charm to convince the helpless woman into taking a last drink. Here they were now, leaning on the bar and sharing a shallow conversation with more or less innocent looks. Alessandra had gained in assurance, or maybe alcohol was to blame but the more Shizuma was gazing at her the more this Italian woman was becoming desirable.

"_It's… what you are…" _the voice said again. But it was a whisper this time, a simple reminding.

"Why?" Alessandra finally asked.

"Why what?" Shizuma took another sip of her drink, the slightly dizzy familiar feeling informing her of her tipsiness.

"You know exactly what I am talking about," a hand started to stroke the pianist's thigh to prove her point.

She sighed. And then giggled. And sighed again. The woman was starting to feel hot, not knowing if it was because of that tempting hand or alcohol. _Probably a mix of both…_she thought before laughing again. "Because…," her own hand caressed Alessandra's cheek. "I am involved." Shizuma burst in laughter again as if she her statement was the most hilarious joke ever.

The hand did not stop its strokes on her nevertheless. It went lower, only to feel her skin. "And?" The musician asked lowly. "So am I," she admitted. "But it does not prevent me to have some…_fun_." Truth be told, alcohol was also doing a grand entrance in her system. Those luscious lips turned into a seductive smirk and Alessandra leaned to Shizuma's ear. "Come on," she said quietly. "It will be…_il nostro piccolo piccolo segreto." _Her Sicilian accent got thicker as the words were pronounced.

The stroking on Shizuma's thigh disappeared. Alessandra stood up, straightening her dress. "Think about it," she massaged the pianist shoulder before going away. A napkin with the number her room prominently on the table. 34B. One floor below hers. One button below hers on the lift. One effort to make.

"_It's…what you are…"_Again, those hurtful words. This reminding. Nagisa knew it, so why looking the other way and pretend otherwise?

"_It's…what you are…"_ it repeated again. Those…truthful words.

_It's…what I am._ Shizuma agreed. _What…I am._

And one second to mess up two years of relation. She walked to the lift in a second state. Reaching the room in question, she remained still for a while until her hand knocked on its own. In a matter of seconds the door opened slightly and the woman felt herself being tugged inside by a hand…

-0-

Amber eyes reddened by tiredness looked at their messy reflection. Shizuma had dressed in a hurry this morning. She wanted to escape. Everything. To forget this nightmare she willingly thrown herself into. A shaking hand wiped the tears. She slowly removed the silky sand scarf from her throat, a blue purple bruise appearing on the left just before her collarbone. And sobs again. Her fingers clenched on the gray sink.

_What…what have I done...?_

Scouring in her purse, she reached for the foundation kit and started to apply it on the hickey feverishly until she made sure it was hidden. Shizuma took a long breath to steady herself and joined her seat.

When the plane landed, Shizuma wandered aimlessly in the airport. She did not check her phone, nor informed Miyuki. She was walking toward the exit when she felt herself being taken in a fierce embrace. Red hair tickled her throat and Nagisa's body shook against her.

"Nagisa…" she whispered.

"I'm sorry," the red head said with a cracked voice. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Lifting her head, she kissed Shizuma on the lips. "I forgot my phone at home…" another kiss and Nagisa hugged her tightly. "I only got your message today."

Shizuma's world fell apart at those words. A _quiproquo_ indeed. A misunderstanding on her part. An assumption proven wrong. A fault. A cheat. She buried her face in Nagisa's crook in an attempt of comfort. To hide her shame.

_What have I done…?_ She hugged back, clinging to the red head as if her life was depending on it. Taking in her scent, her skin, her being as if she was meeting her for the first time.

That night, Shizuma made love to Nagisa for the last time. Making the tacit promise of never ever repeat the events of Milan. She promised indeed.

But never kept it.

Time passed. The gap between them widened. Less talks. More silences. Shizuma was traveling more often. And six months after Alessandra, she cheated again. And again. And again. The more her popularity increased in the profession the more partners she had in her bed. Mostly fans from the public.

At the age of twenty-one her first album was released. A great success that she celebrated in Paris, alone…with two women. At the age of twenty-two Shizuma started to develop an interest for conducting and four months later she was definitely dropping her career as pianist solo to follow a formation to become a conductor. She did in eight months what requires two years and conducted her first orchestra at twenty-three. The same night she slept with her first musician. Followed then by an endless list of anonymous names and faces, more or less famous. More or less talented.

And all that…because of a misunderstanding.

* * *

Her eyes blurred again as the memories rushed before them. Shizuma took a shaky breath, the gently grip of Philip tightening around her shoulders. Why? Why did she let it happen? Why didn't she fight against it? Tears escaped again but she was too tired to wipe them away. Lifting her head to the man that has been holding her for the past hour, Shizuma met a gentle smile and an understanding gaze.

"I—I…I," stutter accompanied and uncertain voice already curbed by tears. Philip hushed her softly, putting his index on her lips.

"I know, Shizuma," he said smoothly. "I know," and hugged her again. His eyes fell on a doctor who was coming in their direction and the man pulled back slowly from the embrace.

The doctor looked around the room and checked his list again. "De Vasconcelos?" His eyes ran over the heads again, until he caught Philip's and walked in his direction as the manager did the same, Shizuma following him closely. "Are you from family?" He asked with a neutral voice.

A furtive look to the woman and he answered. "Yes," without giving any precisions. Hoping that his lie would go unnoticed. "Tell me, is she alright?" Philip was not one to give into sorrow, yet his tone was anything but confident.

The other man looked at the both of them silently. Literally dissecting their expression. "The surgery went well. Her life is not in danger," a sigh of relief escaped the manager's mouth. "However…" and faces became grave again. "Her wrist was in a pretty bad state as you can imagine," this time he looked straight into Shizuma's eyes. "We have done the maximum to fix it without leaving any sequels, but it is likely probable that she won't have all of its mobility anymore."

The verdict was said. Amber eyes widened as mouth felt suddenly dry. Philip reached for her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"This young lady," he started lowly. "This young lady is musician."

The doctor nodded, understanding the question. "Miss De Vasconcelos will be part of a reeducation program with our physiotherapist. This program gained its spurs and is very complete. She could, if everything goes well, regain ninety-five per cent of her wrist's mobility."

"But not all of it…" Philip said, mostly to himself.

"I want to see her." Shizuma spoke for the first time. "Please, let me see her," she pleaded with a shaky voice.

The man nodded and told her where to go, saying that Isis was awake but still tired because of the anesthesia. He stayed alone with Philip to give him more precisions about the young woman's state as Shizuma took her leave.

The conductor wandered in the corridors. Torn. At the same time very happy that she was out of danger but also extremely sad and worried for her. She knew all too well what a musician's biggest fear was. Broken bones were a malediction for them. Even more when playing at such a professional level. That is why, when Shizuma decided to dedicate her life entirely to music and her career, she also renounced to numerous activities she used to do and enjoy greatly. Horse-riding was a one of them. She was a good rider. A very good one, but she did not want to take any risks because music was all she had. All she has. The only thing that was keeping her sane. And she knew that she would not be able to take it if anything of the kind happened. Isis? Isis and she were the same, and she was aware of it. She felt it. This sudden realization made her fear the worst for the concertmaster and Shizuma quickened her pace upon reaching the room.

The woman did not knock and directly opened the door, her eyes widening at sight.

"…on't need any tubes, my kidneys are feeling well. Thank you." Isis was more or less arguing with a nurse. But was made the conductor froze on the spot was her smile_. _A smile she missed and she just realized how much.

"But you will not be able to leave the bed anytime soon, miss," the young – and Shizuma had to admit – _very _attractive nurse protested. She was smiling playfully at her patient, and this bothered the conductor greatly.

"Look," Isis started. "There is _no way_ I let you approach anywhere near my…" she stopped here and finally turned her head to the door. "Oh! Hanazono, hi!" The woman said, waving her right hand to her. "You look like shit, by the way." And then refocused her attention to the nurse. "I will be fine. It's only a matter of hours, right?"

She looked at her forearm outstretched on a little table. Straps were trapping it, preventing any move. White plaster was hiding it going thicker on Isis' wrist and stopping at the middle of her left palm. The young woman felt another gaze scrutinizing her arm and she lifted her own to meet worried and pitiful amber eyes. To Shizuma's utter astonishment, Isis flashed her a bright dimple filled smile and turned to the nurse again, a raised eyebrow emphasizing her question.

"Right, miss," the woman sighed. "But it would be more reasonable to—"

"No," she said slowly. Her decision was a final. "Leave my kidneys alone."

The nurse chuckled at the last remark. "Fine," she turned to Shizuma who was still speechless and eyes wide. "Take care of her," and then took her leave, adding that she would come back later.

Silence filled the room. Shizuma examined Isis carefully while the other was looking at the window absent mindedly. Her hair was a little messed up, more than usual and for sure, she looked paler. But she was always…_she is always beautiful_ the conductor thought to herself before finally moving to the bed.

"Hello," she said softly, taking a seat. Feeling slightly better now that she was able to see by herself that the concertmaster was feeling good. _Or, is she really?_

Another smile spread Isis' face when she turned to her interlocutor. "Did I tell you that you are a complete mess?"

Shizuma forced a giggle from her throat. "You did," before fixing her hair and wiping dried tears.

"Let me tell it another time then. You look like crap."

Amber eyes twinkled slightly and her lips curved up. "I've never been fond of hospitals," she admitted lowly. _Meaning : I am scared of them forever and I would sell my mother not to go there but I came for you. _So romantic.

Isis nodded before an uncomfortable silence settled. It was the very first time that they had nothing to tell to each other. Nothing music related. Nothing sarcastic. Just silence. Deafening.

"Does it hurt?" It was finally asked. _Does it hurt? Really, Shizuma? Really?_ A little voice in her head scolded the conductor and she barely suppressed the urge she had to growl. _Moron._

This seemed to snap Isis from her good mood for a few seconds. She looked at the table where her arm was outstretched, her smile dropping at the sight. "Probably. I'm still under medicine so I don't feel it."

Shizuma nodded, and the silence settled again. Finally, the conductor could not take it anymore. "Isis…"

"No," her head snapped back to her interlocutor. "No," she repeated. "If you want to say what I think you are going to say, just no," looking straight in her eyes. No façade. No smile. "Or I will destroy you with my remaining hand. Get it?"

Surprise took control of the older woman's face and she opened her mouth to voice something. Anything.

"I'm serious, Shizuma," Isis cut.

There was another silence as both of them looked at each other in the eyes. The conductor opened her mouth again to argue and prove her point when a knock at the door prevented her to talk. Philip entered shyly a wide smile on his face when his gaze fell on Isis who smiled back.

"Young lady," brows furrowed suddenly at the sight of her arm. "How are you feeling?" He said with a concerned tone

Isis seemed to think a bit and then answered, "I am good, really. It's not as nasty as it seems to be." She tried to move her fingers to prove her point but a dull pain traversed her limb and she winced.

Philip walked to her and did what Shizuma wanted to do since she came in the room. He hugged her sweetly, being careful not to touch her left arm. "You scared us young lady, you know that?" It was a whisper but the two women had heard it perfectly. Isis turned her head toward Shizuma who looked back without a word.

The concertmaster reached for his back and tapped slowly. "I…" another look at the woman. "I'm sorry." It was not like she did it on purpose.

Philip pulled back from the hug and sat down on the bed. He began to talk about things to furnish the silence and soon the atmosphere lightened up considerably, especially when he talked about how the audience liked the conductor's entrance and soon enough Isis' laugh echoed in the room. Only Shizuma remained silent, looking at the two people as her mind wandered away and she decided to excuse herself and leave before Leslie would come.

"Where is he?" The concertmaster asked, now shifting in the bed as she felt the pain in her arm slowly increasing. To speak the truth, Isis felt his absence, she missed him. He was her, um…boyfriend after all.

Philip's eyes darted from Shizuma who was heading to the door and the younger woman, feeling slightly uncomfortable when he remembered the events a few hours ago. "I told him to go back home to take a rest. The young boy was not…" he cleared his throat. "He was not feeling well. But he will come in a few. I phoned him."

Isis nodded, wincing again as the pain was becoming harder to ignore.

"I…I will come back tomorrow," Shizuma said awkwardly before leaving the room.

Isis kept staring at the door absent mindedly until the pain made her close her eyes and then look away. On the other side, Shizuma leaned her back on the door, eyes shut. She took a long shaky breath and fought back her nausea. Another breath and she walked to the exit. She needed to flee from this place. Now.

The conductor ran to her car and headed to her home.

-0-

Her surrounding did not matter. She was just walking. Mechanically, her steps led her to the safest place she ever knew. The music room. Shizuma did not close the door, no. She left it wide open and walked again, to the piano. She turned around it. A majestic instrument. Loud, but able to whisper the finest notes that are given to hear. Heavy, capable of playing the lightest melodies. Large. Black. Shining.

_Safe._

This thought stuck in Shizuma's head as she watched the mess of a reflection the piano was giving back to her. It was not lying to her. It never did. It never promised the woman to stay by her side and then vanish away like Kaori. Like her father. It never gave her any hopes to feed her illusions with. The piano was here. Just here, following her silently. Finally sitting, the conductor opened the fall revealing ivory black and white keys. Shizuma closed her eyes enjoying their coldness on her fingertips. Another breath and music filled the room. She played slowly, note… by ….note. Chopin's Prelude. Melancholy. Sadness and pain poured out of those slender fingers. Constancy. Like a heartbeat, lower and lower again, sinking into the darkness of the piece as her eyes closed tight to fight back the tears, but in vain. And she cried again silently, switching the music when it was over and starting something new. Something of her own. An original piece composed a while ago, on a nostalgic summer night when she woke up abruptly and for a split-second thought that Kaori was sleeping here, by her side. Until she recognized Nagisa's slow breathing and gathered her spirits. Shizuma always hated when it happened. When her mind was tricking her and spreading salt on a still bloody wound. It hurt so much. It was unfair, why? Why did she have to get through it over and over again? Why was it still so real? The taste of her lips, the way she laughed…why? Why remembering something she had lost forever? Shizuma played louder, moving back and forth on her seat.

_Kaori…_

She was the best thing that ever happened to her after her father's death. And yet, fate had other plans and tore the girl away from her arms.

_Abandoned…_

Shizuma played louder again, her movements becoming erratic.

_She..._

And again.

_Abandoned…_

Louder again.

_Me._

A sting broke when Shizuma pressed the key a little too hard, making the piano protest in an ungraceful growl. Muffled footsteps echoed when the instrument came to silence. She wiped her dried tears and rose from her seat. Walking out of the music room, Shizuma freed her hair letting silver locks fall down on her back. Nagisa was in the living room, sitting at their dining table. She did not blink when she heard the other woman coming and kept looking down at her folded hands. Shizuma took the opposite seat and gazed at the window. The sun was slowly dying, offering its last orange shades to the sky.

Silence settled in the room, only disturbed by the older woman's occasional sniffs. Nagisa was still entranced by her hands and the white tablecloth she found _really_ interesting. At least more than her ex-girlfriend who was again staring outside. The red head noticed that the sunset was giving Shizuma's eyes a beautiful shade of gold, or so she guessed, as she was not ready to lift her gaze from her hands quite yet.

"Why…" the older woman finally dared to speak, eyes glued to the window. "Why…?"

Nagisa's hands trembled a bit. She opened her mouth, but only air came out of it and then shook her head. She herself did not know why nor how happened. How this violence submerged her, this hatred. She had never felt like that before. Never because no one had hurt her like Shizuma did. And yet it was not Shizuma who was bearing the consequences of her acts, but someone out of their lives, out of their problems. Someone who never asked her anything, and even worse, someone who was always pleasant with her. So, no she was not able to explain her reasons to Shizuma, not even to herself. Nagisa felt the tears streaming in her eyes and then falling slowly.

_What have I done?_

Amber eyes finally moved from the window to look at her and so did Nagisa. What she saw shocked her as she leaned backward on her seat. Shizuma was…crying. The sight entranced her, it was the first time in years that she was allowing the red head to see her in this state. So…vulnerable, at her mercy like this.

"Nagisa…" the older woman started with a ghost voice. "I…I'm…"

"Was it all fake?" Her partner asked slowly. "Was it, Shizuma?"

"No," she shook her head vigorously. "No, it was not I swear."

Another silence settled before Nagisa closed her blurred eyes. "What happened, then?" She took a long breath to steady herself. "Shizuma, what happened to us?"

It was her turn now to look at her hands, unable to bear the sight of the suffering woman. A sufferance she created with her own hands. "I…don't know," the conductor replied honestly. _I don't know,_ she repeated to herself. _I never know…_

And then only Nagisa decided to be blunt. "Do you…love her?"

Shizuma's head snapped up immediately, eyes wide and mouth agape. She remained still for a while until her mouth finally decided to obey her and shut; swallowing the lump she had in her throat. "No," she responded. "I don't."

She looked at her in the eyes to prove her point. No, she was not lying about it. She did not love Isis. It was not love but affection, respect and for the first time in her life, admiration. She admired the concertmaster as an artist and as a woman when she understood that she was her equal. A kind of soul sister, but love was not part of it.

Nagisa seemed satisfied with the answer, visibly calmed down. She rose from her seat slowly and walked to the stairs when she felt herself being turned around and taken in a tight hug. Shizuma's body was shaking against hers and moist tears fell on her throat. The red head said nothing, closing her eyes tightly so she would not break down again. They stayed like this for a while.

"_Je te rends ton amour," _it was whispered in French between silent sobs but Nagisa understood its meaning. It was over. For real. It was over.

She pulled back from the embrace and observed Shizuma a sad smile crossed her lips when she removed a few strands of silver hair, mechanically. "Is it…really what you want?"

Soft salty lips pressed against her slowly and she weakly responded to the kiss, closing her eyes again as flashbacks of their life together scrolled in front of them.

_The first time I made you laugh…_

_Our first kiss…_

_The first time you told me I love you…_

_Our first time…_

_The first time I confessed to you…_

_My first love…_

_Our last kiss…_

After what seemed an eternity, Nagisa opened her eyes only to realize she was crying again.

It was…over.

* * *

The return to home was not as easy as Isis thought it would be. Forcing on her remaining hand was tiresome and she had to get used to it for at least the next two months. Then she would have another two months of convalescence but she would at least be able to move her left hand more freely. Everything was so _slow_! Even taking a damned shower had become an expedition to her. Needless to say, Leslie was not helping much.

No. No, actually it was the contrary, he was helping_ too_ much. Being here all day long asking if she was alright, if she needed something and obeying the least of her desires. Anybody would have been pleased by the man's reaction. But Isis was not anybody, she was not thinking like ordinary and sane people, no. She wanted him to leave her _the hell_ alone. That's what she wanted, but as the tradition wants you never say what you really think to your newly found boyfriend even if you have known him for ages, you just shut up and wait patiently for the day you will be finally showing him your true self. In meantime, a gentle – and supposedly fake – smile had settled permanently on the woman's feature and the poor Leslie seemed to make neither head nor tail about it. Pity.

_You've known better days,_ she told herself, now scrutinizing her reflection in the mirror. It has only been a week and half since she got out of the hospital and had to wear this_ really _discreet and blinding white cast. Not so white actually, since the little girl she was babysitting decided to express her creativity on it. Her wrist was giving her hell time on time, but she was not one to complain. Or rather not to complain out loud. Isis carefully removed the cordon attached to her neck that was maintaining the cast straight and massaged it slowly. _I'm sore._ Great_._ Just great. Another sigh and one last glance to see if everything was alright and the woman headed to the bedroom.

She found Leslie carefully removing the sheets on her side so she would not have to make any useless effort. He smiled when he noticed the concertmaster. "Feeling better?"

Isis nodded. "Yeah, I definitely needed that shower." Even if it meant she had to stay at least one hour and half instead of her usual twenty minutes. She tried to pass her hand through her damp hair when a dull pain reminded her it was not the right one. Yelping, the young woman quickly switched to her right and smiled reassuringly to Leslie. "It's alright. Don't worry, I just forgot about…" she gestured to her cast. "That."

He nodded and leaded her slowly to the bed. He removed his shirt when she settled and joined her silently. Leslie leaned forward to switch off the bedside lamp near Isis when he suddenly felt himself being tugged down as lips crashed on his roughly. Passionately. Closing his eyes instantly, the man let his hand fall and roam Isis' body. Shifting his weight, he came closer without breaking the heated kiss. They broke apart only a few seconds and he kissed her again, his hand was becoming more and more adventurous, slowly caressing her toned thigh before going up and take the silky nightie she was wearing along the way. Leslie pressed his body frankly on hers. It was a very physical contact an—

"Ouch!"

Leslie pulled back immediately. "What, what? Did I hurt you?" He hopped on the other side of the bed, visibly worried.

Isis sighed and leaned her back against the headboard, scratching her arm slowly. "No, it's me." _Damn cast! Give me a fucking break already!_ The woman cursed in her head. Fine, she could bear the fact that she needed time to do things. No problem. But there was no way, _no way_ this would dictate her life and prevent her to do what she wanted to do. _God, please I am asking you a favor here. Be on my side for once!_

"We should not be doing this, Isis," the man finally spoke. "You could worsen your injury."

She eyed him silently for a while. He was trying to be the wise one but she knew better. He wanted it as much as she did. Finally making her decision, Isis grumbled something inaudible before straddling his hips and pinning the man down the bed on his back by using her weight. All that without using her hands at all. "Shut up," the woman said as a mischievous smile was slowly spreading her lips. "I can work without, and you know it," she whispered seductively, an inch away his ear. Teeth lightly grazed his throat and Leslie's breath caught up.

Isis went down again, kissing and nibbling her way here and there. She knew the exact places and what she needed to do to drive him crazy. He would give in. It was just a question of time. Another kiss, another light bite and she was going lower again. Being careful not to touch him with her hands, she hid them behind her back. This little game was beginning to be interesting. Very much so. She was torturing him purposely by crawling down ever so slowly and refusing to touch him with anything but her mouth which resulted in a few frustrated growls. Reaching his navel after her seductive journey, Isis lifted her head up.

"What were you saying already?" The grin never left her face.

Leslie grinned back, eyes twinkling lustfully before crashing his lips against hers, wrapping his arms around her waist and filling the gap between them. "I forgot," he whispered before kissing her again...

Low and occasional groans broke the silence of the dark room. But they were not hers, no. She was not a moaner. Not even a talker. Some would call her frigid. But she preferred the term _silent_. She was a silent. Warm and moist breath reached her throat and it made her shiver slightly. She rocked with him, to make it seem she was still here. Yes, make it seem. But those blue yellowish irises were not looking at the brown ones. Leslie's head was buried in the crook of her throat where he was dropping most kisses time on time. Her hand was buried in blonde strands, stroking them lightly. No, Isis was intently looking at the ceiling. Feeling empty. And sad. Not knowing why though.

Is it what he was so excited about? Is it what it looks like, really? Fine she might not have been seriously involved with someone since… her brow furrowed slightly upon searching the answer. Eyes widened considerably when she found the response. _Has it been that much? Oh dear sweet lord,_ Isis barely suppressed the need to growl at herself when she remembered what she…_they_ were doing. Her body pressed a little more firmly on Leslie's and got the reaction she expected. Another low moan. Another kiss. His hands were holding her hips stronger now. An act of possessiveness she came to acknowledge about him. It was the sign he was close.

Her eyes drifted to her arm carefully outstretched on the other side of the bed. What did this accident teach her? That she was alive? Life was something to be treasured? That she had no one to truly care about out of her family? That maybe…_maybe I've made a mistake…_ Leslie's body arched above her and Isis followed the movement. Make it seem, yes. Make it seem. Brown orbs finally gazed at hers. The man was panting slightly, a lazy smile spreading his face. Ego boost? Pride of his exploit? No. None of those. Only love shined in his eyes and nothing else. And this saddened the young woman not to end.

* * *

Waking up in a cold bed was not something Shizuma was used to. Not at all. Usually there would be warm arms around her, another presence, even a stranger. _Someone_. She shifted on her back and stared at the ceiling. Something she has been doing a lot lately, and the time spent gazing at this dear ceiling could vary from ten minutes to one hour and half. It would help her to think. Or not to think, depending on the situation.

A bitter smile appeared on her face suddenly. Oddly enough, when Nagisa was still here, Shizuma would have worshiped each second or silence she could get. And now, now she would kill to just hear the red head whine about something. Anything. Anything but the loneliness and silence she was going through now.

_I'm going crazy…_a laugh followed this thought and then tears. Again. Three days without weeping and there she was again. Strange, wasn't it her who wanted it? Who provoked this situation? A fine hand wiped her eyes. She should not be complaining. _I deserved it…_yes totally deserved. Thus she should not be complaining when she was not the one actually paying for her actions.

_Isis…_

The concertmaster, to everybody's utter astonishment did not seem to be affected that much by the situation. When a few reckless members of the orchestra dared to ask how she could handle the fact she would most likely not being able to play as she used to, the young woman would only smile to them.

"_It's only a violin,"_ she would say. _"I have a life, guys. You should get one too. It's cool,"_ followed by one of her sarcastic shot backs and a wink to prove them_Isis_ was always here.

Even if she was not.

Shizuma had visited her every day when the young woman was still at the hospital…or at least she tried to do so. But Leslie was always there and when he was not the conductor would find herself at the door, not knowing if she should knock or come in. She would stay here for a while. Then, hands would start to shake as her mind would slowly register where she was. It was still a hospital after all. And Shizuma did not like them at all. Finally she would leave the place without turning back.

_Loneliness, my dear love_. Eyes started to became dull. _I did not miss you, I may say…_ She knew what was coming. Shizuma has already lived it once after all. _Then comes madn—_ her train of thoughts broke here. Memories were flashing in her head. Images of the concert. Images of what happened before the concert. Mouth opened at the realization. What the concertmaster did_ for_ her. Why was she the one mourning over herself when she had her _two_ hands? Because she was _lonely_? Because _she _was the one dumping her girlfriend quite roughly after years and years of lies and cheating? No. Too easy. Too noble.

Shizuma Hanazono only liked to be pitied like a vain, vain human being that she convinced herself she was not since the day she was born.

A few more tears ran from her eyes and the woman bit her lip hard to prevent any sound, any shout to be formed. Because she knew too well that if she started, Shizuma would not be able to stop and seriously damage her vocal cords. A conductor needed her voice after all. Yes, she needed it.

To ask for forgiveness.

To finally banish this poison that has been rotting her insides since Kaori and her father's death. To stand in front of a mirror and actually _look_ at herself, through eyes and skin. Stop hiding behind this carefree and irresponsible façade. People suffered because of her childish behavior. People who never asked anything and whom Shizuma imposed on their lives. She would ask for their pardon and mercy. A surge of warmth mixed with determination traversed her naked body. Shifting to a sitting position, Shizuma sat cross legged and let the red silky - and quite expensive - sheet fall on her hip, living her upper half completely naked.

She would grow up. Now, right now.

And apologize to Isis.

And suddenly….

"_I will destroy you with my remaining hand. Get it?"_

All the strength she gained with her newfound resolutions decided to leave at this precise moment. Those welcoming words still echoed her head, making the woman shiver each time. The concertmaster meant them. She did not blame Shizuma, but unlike her, Isis did not need her pity. Or anyone else's for that matter.

The conductor kept staring at her hands and chewing on her lip for a while. She needed her hands. But she needed Isis as well. Dilemma. Amber eyes drifted to her bedside table and twinkled at the sight of coin not far from the clock. _That's it!_ She took it in one hand and kept gazing at the piece of metal intently. The woman would toss up with herself to decide whether to sacrifice her hands or not. If tails: go and apologize. If heads: write a letter to say sorry. Pinnacle of cowardice.

Satisfied, Shizuma nodded and set her fate on this coin. Closing her eyes, she took a long breath and threw the coin. One flips. Two flips. Three flips. She caught it in the air and closed her eyes tightly again. Three, two, one…

"Shit."

Tails.

Screwed.

A rictus of terror settled on her face. Of course, she expected it, but a part of Shizuma was still hoping to get away without damages. As always. The gaze set on the coin, she stared at it for a while more before sighing and tearing her eyes from of it. Fate decided, and she would go with the flow. The clock on the table informed the conductor that it was almost six pm. Time to take a shower, fix something to eat and she would finally meet up with her executioner.

-0-

It was eight when Shizuma parked near the building where Isis lived thanks to Philip's indications. Fingers strongly wrapped around the steering wheel, she could not even get herself to at least loosen her grip on it. An hour passed without her realizing it as amber eyes were focused on the mirror from where the woman could see a motorbike parked not far. _He is here…_and if he is, there is no way she goes.

Leslie had purposely avoided the practice those past few days, not that Shizuma would complain about it, no. But the more professional side of her was screaming and bitching that they were wasting a precious time and she would bitterly regret it. After all, next representation was the concurrence with China and Paris' orchestras. Shizuma could work without a concertmaster for a few weeks, but a loss of two violinists? And good ones in addition? No. There would be a time they would have to face each other.

But surely not tonight.

She sighed and God decided to give her a hand when the front door of the building slapped open as a blonde man with a violin case and a sport bag walked to his bike. A smile crept on Shizuma's face and she silently thanked her luck. She took the time to examine him and he looked…angry? The man roughly packed his bag on the bike before straddling it. The engine roared loudly for a few seconds before Leslie put the helmet on and disappeared in the night.

Shizuma got out of the car and walked to the door. It was closed and she did not want Isis to know about her presence, so she waited for someone to come eventually. She started to pace, back and forth to keep herself warm. Exhaling a white smoke the woman lifted her head to the dark sky. It was the very first time she was doing this for someone, Shizuma felt weird. A lump had started to form in her belly and her mouth was getting drier as time passed. The woman had never felt so nervous in her life. Not even when she did her coming out to her mother who, being her usual self explained to her fourteen-year-old daughter that running a corporation needed some time, a time she could not allow herself to waste on Shizuma and her weird fads.

It went smoothly, in sum.

The woman smiled sadly at the thought. Oddly enough she would have preferred to have an argument or a fight. A _discussion_ with her mother, but it never came. Even now that she was settled. They were living in the same city, but no matter how physically close they were to each other, an endless gap separated them.

Shizuma closed her eyes only to notice a dark silhouette on the building's roof when she opened them again. Amber orbs narrowed a little bit to distinguish the figure but it was really dark. A cold breeze made the conductor shiver slightly and when she looked up again, dark hair was floating in the air as their eyes met for a few seconds before the shadow turned its head. They were blue.

One chance on two.

_No…_eyes widened suddenly. _No… no, NO! _She ran to the door, roughly hustling a poor man who was coming out of the building. Quickly making her mind, Shizuma took the stairs and climbed them two by two.

"_Merde_," oddly enough and that was not a known fact but when facing really stressing situations, the young woman tended to switch to French to express her disagreement in some colorful words. "_Merde, merde, merde!_"

After all, what could be a better choice than the language she used to be flooded by during all her childhood? A tongue such as poetic as French was.

After an unbridled race in those purposely tiny stairs and after avoiding a fatal death by an unfortunate trip several times, it's heavily panting and with shortness of breath that Shizuma reached the door of the roof which she shoved wide open with both hands.

Efficiently startling the shadow, and with quite some desperation, the conductor threw her hand in its direction. "Don't!" She yelled forcefully. "I'm begging you, Isis don't!"

Had it been someone else, this sudden outburst would have surely signed their death warrant by a tragic fall in the vacuum. Being used to hang out on the roof, Shizuma's knightly arrival only caused Isis' heart to skip several beats. Almost fatal. Almost.

"What the…Hanazono!" A hand gripped tightly on her chest. "You nearly killed me, you moron!"

Truth be told, the older woman was expecting to be greeted with a little more enthusiasm. Hence her puzzled face. "You…you…I saw…the roof…" and her difficulties to form a coherent sentence.

Isis sighed. "Seriously, do I look like someone who is going to hop off a roof?" She pointed her face with her index, emphasizing her rhetorical question. "I thought you were thinking higher of me. I'm disappointed," the woman added playfully before turning back and sitting at the edge of the roof.

There was a silence before Shizuma slowly registered the recent events. She came here to apologize. Found Isis on the roof. Nearly killed herself at least twice in the stairs. All that to find out that no, no one was going to die. Well done!

Her hand came back at her sides. She walked weakly toward Isis and sat beside her. Carefully positioning her body and strongly wrapping both arms around the safety barriers. Shizuma looked straight forward. Her skin was getting strangely paler.

"So, you weren't…"

"No," the concertmaster answered the question.

"Are you sure?"

Isis turned her head only to meet a profile. "_Yes_," she emphasized the word.

"Good," Shizuma nodded. "Very good."

A comfortable silence settled. The younger woman looked at the sky thoughtfully. "Why are you here, by the way?" Brows furrowed slightly as she looked at the conductor's profile again.

"I came to save you, wasn't it obvious?" _Don't look down…don't look down…_

There was a pause before the concertmaster's laugh echoed in Shizuma's ears. "Totally obvious, yeah. You just almost killed me in the process."

Finally feeling a little more secure, her eyes darted on the cast. Thick and white somehow, Isis' fingers were curled into a little fist. Oddly enough, the older woman found the image quite cute. "Isis…"

"Shh."

"Bu—"

"Grr."

A desperate sigh followed. "Fine," Shizuma tightened her grip when a cold breeze caressed the both of them, their hair danced in the air.

"Everybody is so…" Isis spoke again after a while. "…Around me. It's suffocating." The conductor looked at her but remained silent. "They are waiting for me to break down…" Leslie and she had even argued about it again tonight before he left the flat raggedly. "I don't know it seems like…" she shook her head unable to continue.

Again, the older woman said nothing, trying her best not to give in her fear and burst in tears, curled into a ball. Talking about tears, blue yellowish eyes were undeniably getting watery to the utter surprise of their owner. Eyelids fluttered as a lone salty drop made its way on Isis' cheek. A slender finger wiped it away and she stared attentively at her moist finger. How long has it been since she last cried? How long has it been since she allowed herself to cry? The woman shook her head, but it was already too late. The valves were open. She just closed her eyes and let the tears pour on her face.

_Finally…_

Yes, finally.

Lips curved upward in a joyfully sad smile. "Pathetic…"

"Pardon?" Shizuma snapped out of her bubble and turned to the other female who looked back.

"I'm pathetic," she repeated. "I haven't cried for five years and the first thing that makes me tear up after all this time is a violin."

As much as she wanted to keep an even face, the conductor could not prevent the chuckle Isis' statement brought to her. She knew she would have done so much more than simply crying if she was at her place. _They_ knew it. The concertmaster looked up again before laughing as well and soon, the both of them got the giggles and were unable to stop themselves.

"Okay," the younger woman took a breath to steady herself and wiped the tears. "Let's go inside, I'm freezing," she dusted off her pants while walking to the door until it hit her and she turned around only to meet a back. "Shizuma?"

The said woman, who had not moved an eyelid since she sat there, was apparently reaching her limits. "I…I think I will stay here a little more…I like this…this place," arms tightened their grip again.

"You're not serious, are you?" Isis walked to her. She could see her body shaking slightly. "What's wrong?"

Amber eyes looked into blue yellowish ones. Shizuma's expression was unreadable but she was clearly uncomfortable which started to worry the other girl.

"I… I'm acrophobic," Isis brow arched slightly, a sign she did not clearly understand her. The conductor would have found it cute in another time. She took a shaky breath before speaking again. "I…am afraid of heights."

Shizuma wanted to cry. No one ever knew about her phobia as she had always avoided the situations that could make fear take control of her being. No one, not even Miyuki. The flights? She always had a box of sleeping pills in her purse and she was always too tired to care, or rather her body was purposely tiring itself when she knew she had to take a plane. It was psychological and the woman had never done anything about it. Now, now she was starting to regret it.

"Then why the hell did you come here in the first place?" Isis was clearly confused.

Shizuma breathed again. "I don't know!" She was starting to lose control and that was no good. "I wasn't thinking I just…" her voice broke here and she nearly shouted when the wind rose again. _Don't panic, don't! _"Just go, I will be fine," this last remark was more to convince herself than anybody else.

"There's no way I will let you perch up here all night," the concertmaster protested. "Let go of the barrier. I will help you," she outstretched her right hand toward the woman.

"I can't," arms tightened their grip again.

"Let go."

"No!"

"Shizuma, let go of the damn thing. Now."

The conductor shook her head vigorously. _So stubborn…_Isis sighed within herself. Time to use the desperate measures. This would hurt. A lot. She leaned on the barrier, faced the other woman and started to count to ten slowly. Reaching eight, Isis clenched her jaw in anticipation. Yes, this will definitely hurt.

In a swift and fast movement, the concertmaster wrapped her valid arm around Shizuma's belly and pushed her roughly, efficiently startling and making her lose her grip. The older woman had just the time to express her disarray in a stifled cry before being pinned quite brutally on the ground like a rugby player.

"Ow…" it took a few minutes to Shizuma to gather her spirits. "That was unnecessarily harsh, Isis," No answer came from death weight atop of her. "Isis?" Silence again. Worry made its way inside her until she felt the body tremble slightly. _What's…_her train of thoughts broke suddenly at the sight of the most adorable thing she has ever seen in her life.

Blue yellowish eyes were sparkling again and the lower lip was quivering, trapped between Isis' teeth. Shizuma was completely entranced by the view and dozed off until she noticed another tear running on the woman's cheek and wiped it away slowly, not to break the beautiful canvas she was facing.

"It hurt…" the younger woman managed with an unusually high pitched broken voice.

"Ah…" again it took her a while to acknowledge what was implied. "Oh God! " Eyes widened suddenly. "I'm sorry, are you alright?" Shizuma shifted to a sitting position before finally standing and helped Isis carefully in the process.

The said woman started to breathe heavily, eyes shut in an attempt to ease the dull pain in her wrist. She knew it would hurt, but not _that_ much damn it! "Run," she whispered.

"Excuse me?" The conductor was dusting off her coat nonchalantly.

"Run," Isis repeated while glaring at her. "Run or I kill you right here."

Shizuma gulped. Hard.

-0-

Having recovered from the hyper stressing event she had just gotten through, Shizuma was now enjoying a hot cup of smoking chocolate like a spoiled little girl. Truth be told, she would have preferred tea but the woman was not going to complain, she was a guest. And she liked chocolate anyway. Eyes darted everywhere, scanning the living room. It was a big apartment, more than she expected. Very luminous, the pastel shades on the walls conveyed a warm and relaxing atmosphere. The decoration was also very tasteful, sober but not completely no-existent with little touch of fantasies here and there. But what was completely absorbing Shizuma's attention at this moment was a black and white drawing on the wall. Or a photograph, she did not quite know. It was shamelessly seducing her with its eyes while smirking daringly. A dimple filled smile.

Eyes narrowed. _It's her…there's no doubt it's her._ And now she was idly wondering how this painting or picture could convey that much of Isis' aura. And also how a sheet of paper could literally turn her on like this. She suddenly remembered _where _she was and grinned deviously. Good old Shizuma.

"You like it?" A voice asked behind her.

She hummed in approval. "It's…"

"…Not me," Isis finished her sentence, receiving a quizzical look from the conductor. She smiled and gestured for her to take a closer look. Shizuma did as told and was finally able to see. It was a picture. Tastefully done, so much that it looked like a canvas. "Don't you notice anything?"

The older woman shook her head. "A twin?" She received a chuckle as answer and refocused her attention on it. Studying each detail, from the hair messily flipped to a side because of - she assumed - the wind, the sparkling eyes conveying nothing but freedom to the hand that was grabbing the tank top and showing off little - but largely enough for the imagination to work on its own - piece of skin. Shizuma let a defeated sigh escape after a while and turned her head to Isis. "What should I notice? It's you, obviously."

She only received a mysterious smile and a hint. "Look at the face."

Amber eyes darted from the_ original_ to the photograph until they remarked the said original was not so original. _The dimple!_ "Your dimple," Shizuma voiced her thoughts. "It's on your right cheek. It should be on the left one on the picture. Like a mirror," she smirked victoriously. And then only it hit her_. Who is…?_

"Now, look at the date on the left," the violinist spoke. She was enjoying Shizuma's confusion. _Very_ much.

Again, the conductor did as told and her eyes widened. "It…it says June 1974. How is…" she gazed at the picture before giving Isis the most bewildered look ever. "Your mom?"

"Bingo," the young woman winked. "Five minutes and thirty eight seconds," she was glancing at her watch. "You were slow. It usually takes less for people to make the connection," a mocking smirk spread her lips.

"I was simply enjoying _every_ inch of it," Shizuma shot back seductively, eyes sparkling mischievously while staring at the picture again.

An icy glare froze her on the spot. "Do I need to remind you that this _is_ my mother? Watch your crazy hormones, Shizuma," the voice threatened.

This had apparently no effect on her as the conductor was still smiling, at other woman this time. "I can't, the resemblance is simply too striking."

A sigh followed by an 'I give up' and Isis walked away to grab food in the kitchen. She put it on the bar and turned around to take two plates and spoons.

"It's a birthday cake?" Shizuma sat on a footstool and glanced at it. It looked absolutely delicious.

"Very perceptive," the younger woman sat opposite to her and was going to cut a slice of cake when she looked at her interlocutor and cut a bigger one before giving it. "You are hungry," it was not a question.

"Eh?" Her face puzzled suddenly.

"You're hungry. I can hear its vocalizations from here," Isis pointed her belly with her spoon.

Shizuma engaged a fierce duel. A merciless fight against her own body. She made everything in her power to prevent it. She even tried to turn her head to one side. But it defeated her with a disconcerting ease.

"Blushing," the concertmaster said as a matter of fact before eating.

She wanted to answer her, but reconsidered it at the sight of the smile that was tugging Isis' lips and grumbled instead. "Brat…"

"I am the brat?" One of her brow arched. "Who is the Goddess of Wisdom who climbed on a roof knowing she would most likely be paralyzed by her unconditional fear and melt into tears?"

"I did not cry!" Shizuma protested while eating.

"Sure," a smirk was now spreading the woman's face.

Another grumble followed before she took another big spoon. The mix between raspberry and chocolate's mousse was addicting and mortal. _Note to self: buy a hundred of those…_"How old?" She finally asked.

Isis swallowed before responding. "I stopped counting after reaching three thousands."

Shizuma chuckled. "Quite in shape for your age," and ate again. "When was it?"

"Has no one ever told you ask too many questions?"

"I just want to know you," she responded honestly. Of course, she had already been blunt with Isis, which was part of the little game they had been playing for nearly five months now. But it was playful, never sincere like now.

The woman glanced at her for a while, full of suspicions. "The day before yesterday," she finally said. "But the cake is from yesterday so don't worry, it's not poisonous.

_The day before…_"Fourth of February?" A nod answered her and Isis proceeded to clean the bar, taking Shizuma's empty plate and hers to the sink. A pause followed as she stared at them for a long time. Then only, her discomfort hit the conductor. "Let me take care of those," she walked to her and reached for the tap.

Isis thanked her and walked away, disappearing in a room. She came back a few minutes later, finding Shizuma contemplating the book shelves in the living room.

"You read all of them?" She enquired.

"No," the voice responded behind her back. "I like to buy books just for the hell of it. It makes me look smart and it looks great on the shelves."

"I am impressed," Shizuma uttered. There were at least three hundred books randomly classed. She picked one and her eyes widened in surprise. "Dangerous Liaisons?"

"I like my classics," Isis put what she was holding on the couch and looked back at the woman who was still wearing a shocked expression on her features. She tilted her head to one side. "What?"

Index pointed at the cover of the book. "It is in French."

"Your sense of observation will never stop to amaze me, Shizuma. Yes it is, and so?" She answered sarcastically, now leaning on the back of sofa almost sitting on it.

"You never told me you spoke French," brows furrowed slightly in confusion. She would have never imagined this. At all.

Isis gave her a blank look. "You never read my resume, did you?"

_Resume…did I…?_ Ah true, Shizuma had asked for it when she passed the audition, but the violinist had told her she had forgotten it, right? _Oh, yes._ She brought it to Philip when she started working with the orchestra so he had her contact information. _Now I remember…_but the conductor never dropped an eye on it, only trusting her ears.

"Ah…no," she chuckled nervously. _I should have…_ "Sorry."

A sigh followed this answer. "I was in Nice's conservatory. Then Paris' approached me," Isis explained, shuddering slightly at the memories.

She made another bewildered face, _Paris' approached her?_ Paris never approaches anyone. Except if they have God-like talent. It had built quite a reputation throughout the years, the past ten years to be more precise. After being the laughing stock of the profession for quite some time they decided to remedy to the situation and seduce one of the best conductors with their holy money. He completely revised the whole orchestra, firing mercilessly a half and efficiently creeping out the other half. Even the concertmaster was more or less kindly asked to take his leave replaced by another man a little less than five years ago.

Shizuma suddenly realized Isis' musical value and smirked. _Better have her with us than against us_… "You do not have any accent," she went on the former subject.

"I am English, just like you," the woman massaged her neck in order to ease the burning sensation due to the cordon rubbing against it. "But my parents decided it would be better to move and finally acknowledge what the words sun and summer meant," this remark elected a giggle from Shizuma. This city was always so gray. "I came back to London only a few years ago." Isis finished and glanced at the clock on a wall, the other following her gaze.

"It's late," The conductor pointed out. They had both completely lost track of time. "I should be going."

The perspective of sleeping in this big empty house - and especially bed - of hers did not enchant the conductor at all and her features unconsciously showed it to the other woman. As she was slowly heading to the door, a sudden and unexpected proposition made her stop on her tracks and turn around.

"You can stay," Isis was the first one startled by the words coming out of her throat without her consent. Shizuma's face lit up suddenly and she did not like this. "Don't get all worked up," she took a step aside revealing what she had brought earlier. Fresh sheets and a pillow. "Here, this is a nice couch," she tapped on the back of it and grinned.

The older woman's enthusiasm flattened immediately. "You're kidding aren't you?" There's no way she would sleep on a couch no, no, no.

"Do I look like I am kidding?" The grin widened. "Besides, it is your punishment for making me take the risk to break my hand once more," a finger pointed at the cast to emphasize the statement.

Shizuma considered the proposition, pros and cons. Cons : the sofa would be her only companion tonight. Pros: she would not be sleeping _alone._ Just knowing that there was another presence in here, even if it was not right beside her was largely enough for the woman to be convinced. She waited a bit before voicing her answer not to sound eager at the idea of sleeping over.

"Fine," she said nonchalantly trying her best to make it seems as if _she_ was doing a favor to Isis by staying and not the other way around.

The other woman smiled again, not even a half convinced by Shizuma's demeanor. "Good then. The bathroom is there if you need it," she pointed a door. Making her point on something, Isis spoke again. "And my room is there," as expected, amber eyes sparkled mischievously. "Only for _emergencies_," she emphasized. "Which basically means call me only if you are crawling in agony. Get it?"

The concertmaster disappeared in her room again, not waiting for a response and Shizuma proceeded to her daily night routine. She directly walked to the bathroom quickly finding her marks there and showered, having no extra clothes was a problem indeed but she was not going to complain. She was staying over at Isis' place. _Isis'_ place. Her apartment. A certain euphoria crept in her and the woman smirked mischievously, secretly hoping this would not be the last time. When she came back to the living room wrapped in a towel, she noticed that the young woman gave her an extra-large shirt – she assumed – to sleep with.

"Goodnight." Isis voice echoed from her room.

Shizuma did not answer but smiled.

-0-

…_How did this __happen? _It was a good question, a very good one. Unfortunately Isis had no answer and it annoyed her not to end. Hence why her eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling.

"You broke it."

"I'm sorry," came the apology on her side. "I did not do it on purpose I swear." Liar.

"I'm not, and I'm not forgiving you. I liked this couch."

"I will buy you another one. I promise."

"Buy me another hand first," Isis shot back. This efficiently shut the conductor's mouth and it made her smirk. She felt the bed shifting again for a moment and then fabric rubbing. "Shizuma…"

"Mhm?"

"What. Are. You. Doing," she was irritated. Very much so.

"Removing the top," the woman answered idly.

A loud and tired sigh echoed in the room. "Dear God, why ar—hey! Put the damn shirt on, you evil woman!"

Shizuma chuckled but said nothing. _What the hell is wrong with her?_ Isis wondered. She just wanted to be a good girl and help someone in need. A good action, something to be proud of. She had noticed her solitude issues since the very first time they met. This need almost primal to be always close to someone. Shizuma's eyes always carried the weight of her nostalgia. Beautiful amber color, a subtle mix between a dominant green and a slight touch of brown but there was always this flicker of sadness in them that Isis learnt to acknowledge by her natural dint of observing people. There was something bewitching about this, and the young woman was often feeling guilty for admiring its beauty.

"I'm keeping the panties so don't worry too much," the voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she rolled over, giving her back to Shizuma who did not like the view at all. She smiled, suddenly remembering something. "You knew who I was since the very first time, right?"

The nicely shaped back she has been craving to kiss her way on stiffened. Isis turned to her again, brows furrowed in deep confusion. "You rummaged in my stuff?"

The conductor shook her head. "The CD just caught my attention," she explained. "It was the first one in the stack and it is an old one."

"So you rummaged in my stuff," she paused for a moment, maybe waiting for a protestation that never came. "No, I did not. Your name sounded somehow familiar that day, but I only discovered who you were a few days after while practicing on a concerto you played."

"I see." Shizuma nodded. "Which one?" She settled a little more comfortably in the bed.

"Kreutzer Sonata," the concertmaster tried not to slaughter the violinist's name. "I really like this one. Especially the first movement," she added as her eyes begun to shine. "The wildness and the piano as well there's something…"

"…Carefree?"

Fingers snapped in agreement. "Yes and…"

"Untamed," they both said in unison.

A long and uncomfortable silence passed before Shizuma smiled. "Thank you," she spoke truthfully. "Receiving such a good critique from someone as talented as you are means more than any laudatory paper I could have gotten back then," the woman – for once – was not expecting any reaction from her interlocutor, nor did she receive one as always.

Her mind wandered to that time. She would definitely not forget it. That was the kind of memories which remains engraved in you. Her last album and tour as a pianist and she had the idea of performing concertos with renowned musicians. One concert, one musician. Her agent, who was always throwing herself body and soul in Shizuma's projects, contacted a list of virtuosi carefully chosen by her client. Among them was Itzhak Perlman: nothing less than the best violinist alive in the world and someone she has always admired since childhood. The young pianist had this flicker of hope that maybe he would accept her invitation.

And he did, to Shizuma's utter surprise and joy. She would keep it for herself of course, but when he crossed the path of the studio they were working in, she nearly squealed like a teenage fan girl and had to restrain herself in full force not to rush to the man to ask an autograph. _I still have the towel he used,_ she thought happily. Yes used to sponge his sweat. So glamorous. Another smile tugged her lips.

"You don't play anymore," Isis' voice drew her out of her bubble. "It's a pity."

Shizuma was taken aback. _I don't play anymore?_ No you don't. _Of course I do! Last time was_… was three years ago. Her eyes widened in surprise. _Has it been…_ why? Why did she become a conductor in the first place? To have one more reason to be away from Nagisa? To finally experience this thrill she was desperately seeking as a pianist? Did she reach it?

_Am I happy?_

This sole question regrouped all the others and struck her head. Odd like the most innocent statement can make one realizes certain things. She cleared her throat with difficulty. "I know," the woman admitted lowly. _I will remedy to this_, she promised within herself. A surprised noise came out of her throat after a while.

"What?"

Shizuma's brows furrowed upon speaking. "It's…it's the first time that I actually talk to someone in bed." No, because usually she liked to engage in other _activities_ which did not require speaking or she would simply fall like a stone and sleep.

The concertmaster burst in a muffled laughter before wincing suddenly. "Ouch, hey! I'm the crippled one here! What was that for?" She stroked the area where Shizuma's foot hit her.

"You made fun of me."

"I always make fun of you. Better get used to it," head turned to look at the clock and Isis' expression dropped. "Time to sleep," she settled in position and sighed contently. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Shizuma answered back this time. She was happy.

Isis did not turn away from her.

-0-

She was having a very pleasant dream. Not knowing what exactly was going on in it but she definitely liked the feeling it procured her. It was the first time she was sleeping well in weeks. The dream ended smoothly but the woman was still in a state of advanced drowsiness, not really registering where she was yet. Something warm was pressed against her belly and a part of her chest and she could feel its heartbeats against her naked skin. The corner of her lips came upward unconsciously when the slumbered figure pressed a little more against her.

It felt wonderfully good.

And very smooth.

And…hairy.

Brows furrowed suddenly. The tiny figure stretched on its place, shaking slightly against Shizuma. Her slumber was slowly fading away and her hearing decided to come back.

_Purrs._

The cry that followed this almost made Isis drop the spatula she was holding. She heard something falling in a loud thud and the cat meowing in protestation before running to her. He hopped on his assigned place on a worktop and looked at her with what the woman assumed was confusion.

"She scared you?" The cat meowed again. "Yeah, me too." She paused on what she was doing to feed him and washed her hand.

"What is _that_?" A grumpy Shizuma stepped in the kitchen.

"Generally speaking, it is called a cat." Isis laughed while spreading the dough on the waffle machine and closed it before turning around. "From the feline spec—what the hell Shizuma!" She quickly covered her view. "Could you spare me an eye fracture, please?"

_Eye frac…_the conductor glanced down. _Oh…_ she was only wearing panties. "Sorry," she walked back and came a few moments after, this time clothed in the large t-shirt she was given last night.

"Not a morning person?" Isis spoke, still giving her back to Shizuma who settled on a stool, looking at the dishes and juices already on the bar.

_She did all that alone?_ The woman felt bad for not waking up earlier. "No. Never," she answered. "You took a shower?" she asked, noticing the still damp brown hair held up in a bun. A hum responded her question and she felt even worse. "You should have woken me up. I would have helped you."

Isis froze. _Helped me…?_ She turned around, ready to voice a sharp shot back on how Shizuma should mind her own ass before watching hers but stopped abruptly on her tracks. Amber eyes were locked with hers. No mischievous glint in them. Not even a slight sparkle of perverted thoughts. They were just a little dull due to the sleepiness. The woman had talked seriously, she wanted to _help_ her. The shot back she had prepared turned in a polite 'thank you'. Pity.

A plate of smoking waffles completed the breakfast, caressing Shizuma's nostrils, gently inviting her to pick one and devour it. Which she did and, after being well satiated decided it was time to talk seriously. "I need you."

The young woman chocked in her cup of chocolate. "W-what?" she managed after a series of coughs.

"I need you to come back to work," she said, not even bothered by what just happened.

Isis wiped her mouth with a napkin, recovering a little composure. "Look, I'm really flattered about the faith you put in me, but I won't be able to play for a while – if not ever. I am useless right now," she spoke the last sentence with resignation, failing to open a simple pot of yogurt with one hand.

Shizuma removed a strand of hair. "It's not…" her hands reached for the food the young woman was fighting with and opened it.

"It's not your violin that I need," she said, now eating the yogurt absent-mindedly. "It's your presence. Musicians work like children, Isis. As long as they have someone to stimulate them, they are willing to work. Here is the role of the concertmaster. It's not only your musical talents that make you a good one: it's your bonds with them. They respect you because you are a very good violinist, but most importantly they respect you because you care about them as much as they do you. You value far more as a simple human being than anything else. They will follow you anywhere because you…we are connected. It's like a chain that links us, and you are the strongest one. Not only you know them, but you know _me_ as well: the way I work, how I lead. You are the bridge between us. Whether you know it or not but everything gravitates around you, Isis," the conductor finished this long and passionate tirade with a "_We_ need you," and waited as a panel of different facial expressions was traversing the woman's features. Unfortunately for Shizuma, it was none of what she expected. Blue yellowish irises were focused on her hands and she glanced down quickly to see what was wrong with them. "Oh," an embarrassed chuckle followed. "Here, sorry."

The concertmaster reached for the yogurt and snatched it off, sending a death glare. "In short, you want me to play the scarecrow for you to lead without them going out of tracks," she started to eat with the spoon Shizuma had just used.

"Exactly."

There was something the woman needed to do first. "I will think about it…" her sentence broke when she heard a set of keys playing in the lock of the door.

Footsteps echoed from the living room and she recognized this way of dragging his feet which characterized Leslie's walking. This and the leather of his jacket rubbing. "Isis?" He called, now walking in their direction. "Look, I'm sorry for yesterday. I should not have…" brown eyes met amber ones and the man froze on the spot.

The room suddenly dropped a few degrees, making the concertmaster shiver. _What's wrong?_ Her gaze drifted from Shizuma to Leslie. "Hello?" She snapped her fingers to break their torpor.

The conductor gathered her spirits first. Shaking her head, she took one last sip of juice before standing up. "The waffles were delicious. Thank you," and walked out to wash herself and get dressed. "Good morning, Leslie," she greeted without any conviction.

"What was she doing here?" He finally asked when Shizuma left the apartment silently.

"Honestly?" She smiled to him. "I have no idea. But that's not important. What _happened_ between you two matters, though."

"What do you mean?" The entire joyful mood he collected this morning was slowly fading away. He leaned on the wall opposite to the bar. "Nothing happened," he tried.

Truth be told, Isis has always hated to have a hearing as keen as hers was. She would always catch things she preferred to ignore or get killer otitis that would make her cry and crawl all night when she was a child. But she had to admit, bat ears were definitely useful time on time. They were the best lie detector ever when you knew how to use them. And with twenty-five years of practice, she could recognize this little flicker, this little thing that would make one's voice pitch up even for a few seconds like Leslie's just did. But the poor man remembered this detail too late, and he realized his mistake when her eyes narrowed.

"What happened?" Isis repeated, her voice getting lower.

"I…" Leslie glanced down at his feet, suddenly finding his shoes very interesting. "…Let's say I was a little harsh on her…" he muttered. "Physically harsh," he proceeded to explain her the events at the hospital, making sure not to glance up at her. The man knew that what he would be seeing on her face would not be good at all.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She asked with a steely tone. "She could have filed a claim, you dumbass!" Shizuma would not have done that and Isis knew it. She was too proud, but whatever. "You could have hurt her seriously an—"

"I wanted to hurt her!" Leslie cut. Anger was making its way through him and he walked to the woman. "I wanted to. Look at you, Isis! _She_ made it," he pointed at her cast. "It's her fault, and yet…yet you are defending her like, like…" a sudden realization hit the man and he glared at her. "What happened yesterday?"

Oh-oh. An angry man is not a wise man. The concertmaster knew it but it was too late for her as well. "What are you implying?" He wanted to get on this path? He would have it.

"I trust what I see: she stayed over and both of you were half naked," again, his hand pointed at her and the tank top and mini short she was wearing. "I know what she is," he went on. "And what _you_ are."

Her face paled suddenly. Confusion made it through her eyes before she gathered her thoughts together. Isis' jaw clenched. Hard. Her left hand turned into an angry fist and she ignored the dull pain which accompanied this gesture. He had gone too far. Teeth trapped the inner cheek and chewed on it mercilessly for a few seconds until she calmed down, taking a long breath and closing her eyes. A mix of furor and hurt was storming in them when they locked with his.

"And…" anger was palpable in her voice. "I am _what_, Leslie?" She hissed between her teeth, telling his name as if it was the most hideous curse. "Tell me?"

This seemed to snap the man out of his own rage, but it was far too late try and pick up the pieces. He had wounded her. Touching one of the most sensitive spot of her being. No, Isis never hid it; she just did not talk about it either. After all, it was his fault for scouring into her portfolio three years ago to pay a pizza for the both of them and finding those pictures of her and a mysterious blonde woman with revolver green eyes. It was a set of four tiny pictures each one different of the other. Apparently taken from a photo booth, three of them were showing the two girls making funny faces and it made him laugh. She looked so carefree and young in them, so _happy_. But his laugh had fell flat at the sight of the last one. At the sight of the passionate kiss the two girls decided to immortalize on glazed paper. A little confused by his discovery - and also disappointed, things must be said - Leslie had spent that evening in a blur until he finally dared to bring the topic. Isis was surprised at first but she answered him. Explaining with her usual sincerity that she was not straight, but it did not mean she was gay either. That she had had a few people in her life. Most of them were men though - this last remark made him smile hopefully again - and girls were only to 'have fun once in a while' as the woman had put it herself. As for this blonde female with killer eyes, it was her best friend. Someone she had met in the conservatory when they were both teens, besides they were sixteen in the picture. Leslie was satisfied with the responses he got that night and never asked for more. They never talked about it again.

Until now, that is.

The man knew it was a sensitive topic. Isis never liked to talk about her past, let alone about her love past and even less about her sexual habits. "I…"

"Answer me. What I am?" She asked again, eyes glowering.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry," were the only words he was able to get out of his dried mouth.

"It's too easy to say this, Leslie." Isis spoke coolly. "Too easy when the damage is already done," she added in a loud whisper while looking down.

He was taken aback, words sulking him mercilessly. With the little pride remaining in him, he walked to the living room and took his helmet before leaving her again, just like yesterday.

He had gone too far.

* * *

After a week and half of pondering with herself, Isis decided it was time to make the first step and it's with a shaking hand that she knocked at Philip's office door.

"Come in," he smiled happily and gave her a big hug. "Young lady, how are you doing?" Philip tapped on her shoulder.

"Beside a chronic starvation due to me needing half a day to fix something to eat?" The woman asked playfully, electing a chuckle from her interlocutor. They both sat and she started to ogle at the candies.

_Just like Shizuma…_this thought warmed up Philip's heart. _Those two look alike, more than I imagined._ "What brought you here, young lady? Did you miss me?"

She laughed. Oh, Isis did miss him very much. And this place. And the people. And_ playing…_ a flicker of sadness made it through her eyes and she shook her head. "Shizuma asked me to be a scarecrow."

"Oh…" The fact that the concertmaster was referring to Shizuma as _Shizuma_ and not her surname did not go unnoticed by him. "But this is not the reason of your presence here. Am I wrong?" He gave her an understanding smile when she shook her head in agreement.

"Could you get me in touch with someone?"

This time he nodded. "Of course," a knock echoed and Philip smiled apologetically to the concertmaster. "Come in."

Leslie froze upon meeting blue yellowish eyes he hasn't seen for a week and half now. So did their owner, but she did not blush like he was now.

"Young man," the manager greeted, snapping the violinist out of his dozing. "You deserted too," he added jokingly. "Welcome back."

"I…um, yeah," he scratched his neck in embarrassment. "Sorry."

Philip glanced at Isis and scribbled something on a post-it before giving it. "Here, young lady. I hope this will be helpful…for the _both_ of you."

She thanked him and left the room, but not before responding to Leslie's fingers that stroked her own discreetly in an attempt of forgiveness. He left Philip a few minutes later and found her in a room that was used as living room with a huge table, coffee machines, a fridge, a TV and a big couch. Isis was at the table; intently staring at her phone and the post-it she was given. The man could not tell if she had already called whoever number was written on the paper or not.

"H-hey," the violinist tried to sound casual as he walked to her.

Isis turned her head to him. "Hello," she smiled.

An uncomfortable silence filled the gap between them when he took the seat opposite to her. "Isis…"

"It was a mistake," she blurted out, supporting the man's eyes with difficulty.

Hurt was pouring in those brown eyes. He had hoped. Leslie had hoped that maybe they could talk about what happened between them. He had hoped to find the right words, as people say, to soothe anger and appease her fears. After all, arguments were part of the couple life he aspired to live with her. He had hoped he could apologize. For his behavior. For his useless jealousy and misplaced male pride. For thinking, just a second that she would cheat on him with another woman. With _Shizuma _especially. It was only when he came back to his flat that common sense decided to make it through his head, informing the man that if she had wanted to do anything with her, Isis would not have waited five months. She was not interested in her, but Leslie was too blinded by his own fears to see the truth. He was so scared to lose her, so happy to finally be with her and so willing to keep her that he pushed her away and did the exact opposite. Letting his apprehensions spread in his head like a disease, forgetting that since the two years or so that they evolved to a higher level in their relationship, Isis always stayed loyal toward him. Fine, they may have not been officially together but she never, ever had someone else beside him and he was certain of this. A sort of tacit committed relationship.

That would have lasted a lot more if only Leslie had shut his mouth and was happy with what he had already. _I lost everything…_the thought saddened him when he looked at her and met an equally sad smile. "I understand."

"I thought…" her hand squeezed his. "I thought I was ready," she looked away a few seconds. "Ready to love again."

"I understand," he repeated reassuringly, in a loss of words.

Their eyes met again and Leslie could see regrets in hers. "I am sorry," she whispered before having this tender gesture Isis always reserved to the man alone. She stroked his cheek caressing it like it was the most precious thing ever.

_So smooth…._Not able to hold himself any longer, the violinist stood up and embraced her tightly. Brown strands tickled his face and this distinguish smell of hers titillated his nostrils. As elusive as ever, if not more. He pulled back after a while. "Friends?" Leslie forced a smile.

"Friends," and she did the same.

They laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation and drifted to a more joyful topic. Isis excused herself after a while and left him lost in his thoughts again. _Yes,_ the man told himself. _I lost everything._

Everything but the essential.

-0-

_Why the hell is it always so crowded here?_ This interrogation struck to her mind as the concertmaster was trying to spawn her way into the sea of mommies, whining babies and other mirth. The end of school was more a super obstacle course than a joyful time when children would run and jump on their mothers' arms.

No, actually they would do this exact thing. All of them. At the same time.

Isis skillfully dodged the third assault in less than two minutes of presence on the battleground and walked straight forward. Finding a _safe _place, she settled and began to scan the area. Kids, moms, kids, babysitters, kids, snots. Kids eating snots. _Ew!_ The woman made a face and continued her in inspection. Eyes lit up when they landed on their target. Taking a breath, she whistled loudly enough to be heard among the crowd. A seven-year old girl immediately turned her head toward the sound. A waving arm indicated her Isis' location and she ran to it, speeding up her pace at the sight of the concertmaster.

"No, no, no!" She just had the time to put her valid hand in defense before the kid tries to jump on her. "Cast, remember?"

After a mini pout, the little girl nodded. "Not fun at all."

"You have no idea," she sighed, defeated.

Tiny fingers tangled themselves around slender ones and they started to talk about school and how the brat spent her day while walking. She has always loved when it was her babysitter who would pick her up. They would ramble about things, talk about boys and play videogames at her place, waiting for one of her parents to come back from work. And Isis would help her with homework. And she would help her to cook in exchange. But sometimes – it was rare though – they would go to the park if the weather allows them. Or, like it was the case now, head to a café with a playing area for children. A big grin adorned her little face at the sight of the huge playing area only dedicated to her. She threw her school bag on a table, her shoes on the ground and plunged in the welcoming sea of balls.

Isis took a strategic seat to keep an eye on her and ordered a coffee. No, she was definitely not a coffee drinker. She preferred to have something that would wake her up smoothly and coffee was not part of the list. But now she was stressed. And anxious. Thus, coffee was needed and welcomed. A quick glance at her watch and she took her first sip. The hot liquid warmed her insides and calmed her down a little. She grabbed the newspaper on another table and began to read it in meantime, checking on the brat time on time.

"Sorry. I am late," a voice snapped Isis out of her reading after a while and she lifted her head to meet clear eyes.

"No," the concertmaster shook her head. "It's fine." Nagisa sat in front of her in silence. "Do you want something to drink? Or eat maybe?" She added in an attempt to break the ice.

"Yes…um…I will take a cappuccino," the younger woman forced a smile.

"A cappuccino, it's settled then." Isis ordered the drink and a brownie with cranberry juice for the kid who was still playing. Their discomfort was being more and more palpable. "Thank you," she broke the silence again. "Thank you for accepting to meet me."

The red head was playing with her spoon out of stress. "No, it's me. I wanted to…"

"Cranberry juice!" A hyper joyful voice cut her and a little girl she did not know joined them. She had freckles and the most beautiful childish smile Nagisa had ever seen. "You rock, Isis!" The kid added after taking a sip of her drink.

_Damn right I do!_ The woman smiled before frowning. _Huh…? _"Wait, where did you learn that word again?"

"School," she swallowed her food and ran to the playing area again.

_I need to talk __to her mother about this._ "Brat?" the concertmaster gestured her to come back and wiped the chocolate out of her round cheek with a napkin. "Here," they to each other and Nagisa's heart melted.

"Your daughter is something," she uttered while glancing at the girl who was actively talking with two other boys.

"Yeah she—wait, what?" Isis' face puzzled suddenly before she burst in laughter. "No, no, oh God no. It's not like that," she explained to the confused read head. "I am just the babysitter. She's my neighbor."

"Oh," Nagisa chuckled. "I see." Yet the complicity they had showed was enough to fool her. And the blue eyes as well. _They must have known each other for a while,_ she thought. Her gaze drifted to the cordon and the cast of her interlocutor and her almost joyful mood vanished immediately. "I'm sorry," the words finally came out of her mouth. But they did not make her burden disappear as she thought they would. On the contrary.

Isis quirked a confused brow toward the red head before it hit her. "Nagisa…" she started hesitantly. "Look…look at me please,"

It took a while for the younger woman to dare and lift her gaze up. But when she did, what she found in those blue yellowish eyes bewildered her. No anger, no blame. No, nothing of the kind.

Compassion.

Isis' eyes were filled with compassion and empathy. _As if…_as if she knew how it felt. How Nagisa was feeling. A sudden understanding passed through the both of them when the concertmaster's lips curved up.

"Y-you have…" she was unable to continue. Mouth agape and eyes wide. Yes. She had been betrayed, just like her.

"In another life," the woman nodded. "Another time." A pause followed before she went on. "You reminded me of myself at that moment," clearing her throat, Isis took another sip of her coffee. _Cold._ "Look, I have not made you come here to talk about the past; but to warn you."

"W-warn me?" Nagisa was visibly confused, abandoning the spoon she was toying with on the table.

The concertmaster hummed in approval. "I want you to promise that you will not become like me," she said seriously. "More than anything else, Nagisa you need to get over it, or your pain will rot you to the core," her words made the red read's throat tighten. "I know it is the last thing you want to do now."

Nagisa nodded: she was right. No, no of course she did not want to get over her pain. To forget it, the young woman could not. It was the last bond. The last bond that linked her to Shizuma. Pain. If it disappeared, she would not have anything in common with her anymore. Anything to share. So no, she did not want to get over it. Even if the hurt was unbearable.

There was another silence. Isis checked on the little girl before refocusing her attention on Nagisa who was lost in her thoughts. "I turned twenty-five only a week or so ago," she sighed. "I don't like to celebrate my birthday. Actually I completely forgot about it until the brat gave me a present." It was nothing really. Just a keychain with a mini violin. But it meant so much to her when her eyes fell on it. "I don't like to know I gained another year because it reminds me too much of…" the woman sniffed. "…Of my own stubbornness. I had the choice and the golden way to reach my purpose. I had everything in my hand," she gazed at the cast. "Everything."

Their eyes met again and Nagisa could swear that Isis was on the edge of crying. So was she, in reality.

"But my pain flooded my judgment. I slammed the door to my dreams and fled like a thief. I pushed everybody away from me and even then, they were trying their best to help me. But I thought they could not. I thought no one could. How would someone understand a pain they have never gotten through? Why was everybody so sure that I would get over it? And yet it was my only wish: I wanted this pain to go vanish in the air and leave me alone. But at the same time I was feeding it. And I gave it my whole for five years. Five years…" she smiled bitterly. "It's long, isn't it?" No sound came from the other female and she went on. "It transformed me. Turned me into this embittered woman who hides her fears behind sarcasm and coolness. Only twenty-five and I feel like I am forty." Isis laughed when the first tear ran on her cheek, gazing absent-mindedly at the table. "I have beside me someone who could change me the way I was. Who could make me happy for sure. And I am unable to love him back. Insensitive to his feelings. I am unable to let him go _here._" An index pointed at her chest. "Because my pain…turned me that way," she reached for Nagisa's hands on the table and squeezed them while looking at her. "Please, don't let it take the path on you. I'm begging you," she whispered. "I'm begging you."

"I…I can't," the red head's hands were shaking. "I—I can't. It hurts…." her voice broke at this moment. "It hurts so much."

Isis nodded. "It does, I know it does. But the world keeps spinning," she soothed. "_Your_ world, Nagisa must keep spinning." A long breath followed when the other finally nodded. The concertmaster leaned backward on her seat, wiping a track of tears and smiling sweetly.

"Why? Why are you helping me?" She could not help but wonder. After all Nagisa had done to her. It happened so quickly. She was here, lying on the floor, and there was this metal cylinder in the sink. A deodorant maybe. Her hand just grabbed it and did what she did.

"I was given a second chance." Isis pointed at the cast, still smiling. "And I will use it this time."

* * *

Eyes were focused, drifting back and forth on the dates written in haste on the paper. Mind was boiling, but it vain. Math was math after all, Shizuma has always been indifferent to it, but what those numbers were telling her now was not pleasing at all. The next representation was in four months because she had foolishly wasted one over her moods. Isis was out for three months and not available for another month. No concertmaster meant extra work, adding that she did not know what they would be playing yet. But, no concertmaster meant as well no concert so in a sense it did not matter, did it?

In other words?

Shizuma Hanazono was screwed.

She shut her eyes and rubbed them slightly. _Glasses, glasses!_ Oh, and migraine too. _Think, Shizuma, think…_think about what? It was too late anyway. This concert was crucial for the competition she promised Philip they would win. Yes, back when the conductor _was_ actually doing her job. She opened her case and took the piece of paper she had torn from a newspaper two days after their first concert but had not read yet, too absorbed by the events which followed the said concert.

"…_Never cease to impress, Shizuma Hanazono proved once more that her baton was made of gold. Not only did she choose to settle but also to lead a new formation with an average age of twenty four years old. At the moment, we can only welcome this unexpected choice as much as their performance together. With a strong and moving interpretation of Aida, the young conductor has managed the feat to reduce to silence the critics who were predicting her a premature end of career. This new orchestra blows a wind of freshness and carefreeness in a profession often qualified __as old fashioned as their daring interpretation of Dvorak's symphony specially made for Miss Hanazono's entrance showed. We can only wish them the best for the future and greet back a young prodigy the profession had clearly missed."_

The victorious smirk that had spread her face while reading the article dropped at the last sentence, replaced by a confused expression. No, the young prodigy was not her. That was for sure. _Then who?_ She thought about it a little more_…Isis?_ Brows furrowed again. There was no other explanation; the young woman was the most talented musician in the orchestra. Shizuma sighed, internally scolding herself for not reading the concertmaster's resume. _Greet back…missed?_ Those words caught her attention. Of course, she knew Isis was not new to the classical world even before being told where she had been formed. But there was a big step between not being a newbie and being _famous. _Because that was it. She was famous. Or had been at some time.

The conductor took the laptop on the dining table and lied on her couch, settling comfortably before turning it on. If Isis had her quarter of glory there should be a trace of it somewhere in the limbos named Internet. Not feeling like a stalker at all, Shizuma typed the concertmaster's name and scrolled on the results it gave her. She had already done that for herself, a while ago at the beginning of her career just for fun. And truth be told, she had been surprised upon finding a site entirely dedicated to her and the different outfits she was wearing at each representation. Every dresses and shoes she had worn for concerts were dissected and analyzed by a random fashionista. At that time, the woman did not know if she should have been happy or freaked out. She liked attention yes, but not _that_ much…

The night had already settled when Shizuma finally stopped her searches and went to sleep. Really interesting searches. The woman did not lie to her about her professional career. But what surprised the conductor – and incidentally made her crave in envy – was the age at which Isis had joined the formation of Paris' orchestra. The second one, a little less prestigious for not being led by a tenor of the profession like the principal one but still very talented and only formed by the rising stars of their conservatory only added of course to a few veterans. Isis became the concertmaster at eighteen from what Shizuma gathered of information. In other words, she was a baby. This could totally explain the ease with which she was leading now. Back then, most of the musicians she must have had under her charge were at least two times older than her. And not always open minded enough to have a pocket-sized violinist commanding them, let alone a woman.

They had played almost everywhere with a varied directory from ultra-classical to more contemporary pieces. It was a great success or at least that's what the several articles and pictures she found told her anyway. Something had struck her though, while comparing the list of musicians hired by the principal orchestra. A lot of those who had been fired five years ago during the second wave of layoffs operated by the conductor were replaced by the musicians of the other one. Actually all the strings were from the second orchestra.

Shizuma's brows furrowed when she looked at the ceiling. _Logically Isis should have been the one leading._ She shuddered at the idea_._ They would have no chance to win against Paris if it was the case. _Then why did she not join them…?_ The conductor would have been crazy or deaf not to hire her, the woman was certain of this. Even more since she and the musicians had already a lot of experience of playing together. Shizuma shivered again. Yep, they would not have had a slight chance against them if Isis happened to be _their_ concertmaster. Her baton might be made of gold, but she sure was not able to make miracles yet. Making a mental note of asking Isis precisions about this story, the woman finally drifted to a peaceful slumber. Not even bothered by the fact that she had again wasted a day over nothing or that there would most likely be no concert if they kept it that way.

After all, it could wait one more day right?

* * *

"It's over," a musician declared.

"Yeah, totally…"

"…Screwed," a third one finished the sentence, getting eager nods to his statement.

"Don't be so pessimistic. We can still hope…" the brown-haired female turned her head left to right to try and get anyone's approval. "Right?" Everybody around the table shook their head and she looked down.

"Why this reunion then?" One asked.

"To make you stop whining like a high school girl and work," a voice answered from the threshold of the living room. A big grin was adorning Isis' face when heads turned toward her.

"Hi guys," she shook her hand at them. "Missed me?" Like one and only man, the musicians stood up and rushed to her. "Wow, wow, wow. Calm down," the woman placed her arm in defense. "One by one for the hugs and kisses, please."

Laughs and cheers filled the room at this moment. It made her smile. She had missed this. Missed them. Over the time and the months passing by they have become what would one call a big family. With its ups and downs. A certain relationship had settled between them, something she had forgotten. Something she has been craving for during all those years and now Isis was wondering how she did to just be away from this universe that was hers for so long.

The euphoria eventually faded and they joined their places as the heavy atmosphere that had settled before her arrival came back. In full force this time. At least five musicians sighed at the same time.

"What's wrong?" She asked upon taking a seat.

A flutist turned to her. "The concurrence…" he paused as more sighs could be heard. "We are not ready. Nothing is settled, not even the piece we will play."

_How come nothing is ready yet?_ "That's a problem indeed…" Isis muttered. _Shizuma should have…_

"I-Isis?" Talk about the she-devil. The conductor stepped in the room, looking bewildered. She felt joy creeping in every fiber of her body. But being the woman that she is, Shizuma cleared her throat and greeted her with a laid back demeanor and a 'hello' suppressing everything that could give her state of mind away.

"You," the concertmaster started authoritatively. "Why aren't they ready yet? I disappear for a month and everybody is running like headless chickens?" She sighed. "In case you forgot, _you_ are supposed to be the conductor."

In loss of words, the woman could not do anything but stare. Same were all the musicians, staring back and forth between the two. No doubts Isis was back. Lips inwardly curved up among the musicians, some of them trying their best not to laugh. Shizuma finally recovering her spirits apologized sheepishly like a little girl and took a seat. _Wait, how…who is the boss here?_ Supposedly you. _Then…how did she reverse the roles like this? _Brows furrowed in deep thought as Isis spoke again.

"So, in short we have no concertmaster and nothing to play, right?" Heads nodded while she thought about it. "How about…taking that girl from the audition?" Yes, she was good. Graceful and technical although she lacked a little soul in her play. But, it would work for a concert.

The bubble Shizuma was losing herself in decided to crash down at this moment. "NO!" She blurted out, startling all the audience. "No," she repeated with a calmer voice. "Not her."

Isis quirked a brow. "Why? Surely she would possibly not refuse to play for the greatest Shizuma Hanazono," her tone was a little sarcastic.

_If only she knew…_the conductor thought. Oh yes, if only she knew that they did a little more than playing. A lot more actually. An entire afternoon. _No, I can't tell them._ Even if everybody already knew about her habits of getting closer to a few privileged musicians. That was part of her reputation anyway. The hidden not so hidden part of the iceberg. "Let's say…" stares were becoming quite insistent and Shizuma knew that she was nowhere with her explanation. "Let's say I…have _promoted _her."

A sea of confused expressions faced the conductor as they were trying to understand what she meant. Only Isis got the hint and her eyes widened. "You're a freak, Shizuma," she stated.

"Am I?" How was she supposed to explain that the poor violinist needed to be comforted after her fail and Shizuma, being the generous creature that she is, only conceded to her wish? She was not a freak, no. It was called being altruistic. "Anyway I don't want her as my concertmaster," her decision was a final. And it has nothing to do with the fact that she accidentally 'lost' that girl's number and did not call her since then, no, no, no. Absolutely. Not.

A long desperate sigh followed. "Fine. What do we play then, _maestro_?" Isis emphasized the word sarcastically.

"I was thinking about Beethoven," Shizuma looked at each musician to get their approval. "The seventh symphony sounds good to me."

_No_, Isis thought after a moment, looking again at the table. "Not enough," she made eye contact. "It's too technical." The other woman's brows furrowed. Why did she doubt her? The concertmaster got the hint and explained herself. "It's not you. It's our ability to play _together_ that I am not sure about."

"But the concert got good critics," a violinist intervened.

The woman shook her head. "No, _she_ got the good critics. Not us. Nuance," an index pointed at their conductor. After another pause she finally dared, "We have no chance against Paris with only that."

Isis spoke the truth and everybody knew it. Sure they had Shizuma but as talented as she was, their victory could not rest on her shoulders alone. Where was the thrill if you did not deserve what you earn? More sighs filled the room again. The truth really did hurt sometimes.

"What do you suggest then?" One asked.

The concertmaster remained silent, playing intently with her fingers for a while. _Originality…_the word popped up in her head and she grinned. _That's it!_ "Let's do something they are not expecting us to do," All that she earned were quizzical looks. "I don't know…like, think about it. Why did they choose Paris?"

There was a silence while people thought about what was just said. Shizuma included. "Because…" a musician finally tried. "They have technique?"

Heads nodded in agreement.

"And rigor," another one added.

"Experience," a woman said. "I mean…they have been playing together for years."

Shizuma could not help but approve. Her face lit up suddenly. "By hiring Paris they are assured to have something on track and planned. As regular as clockwork being."

"Exactly," Isis nodded. "I know how they work. They will do what they are expected to do, nothing less, nothing more.

"The same goes for China. With a lower level though," the conductor spoke again. "I was asked to lead them." But she did not accept. Busy schedule. And pickiness also.

"If I follow you, we should make something at odds with them?" It was Leslie who talked this time while scratching his chin.

The concertmaster shook her head. "Not totally. We can play Beethoven, but we need something else in addition; to fool them. Something that will distract the producers enough not to notice our weaknesses. We don't play in the same court as Paris yet."

"Any ideas?" Someone asked.

Silence settled again as everybody tried to think about something that would fit. Focused with their jaws clenched or eyes narrowed for some. Concentration, that's what they conveyed. Or at least for the five minutes that followed. They all gave up at the same time and sighed in synchronization. Ain't that lovely to see?

Isis was chewing on her lip slowly. "How about an opening act…like in modern concerts?"

A female quirked a brow. "You mean getting someone to play for us during the first twenty minutes?"

"Not play for us," she nodded. "But _with_ us. We would also play with them as an accompaniment. It should be unexpected enough to fool the producers for a while."

"And then play Beethoven after the entr'acte, right?" The concertmaster nodded to Leslie. "I am in," he smirked.

"Me too," the woman that spoke earlier smiled as well.

"Count me in the band!"

"Yeah also me!"

And soon enough the cacophony rose in the room as much as the musicians' morals. Yes they would do it. It sounded great and it was original. Sure, nobody would have had the same idea. Mixing contemporary with classical has already been done of course. But in the same concert? No, never. The medias would hear about it…and maybe it was for the best. Joyful heads turned toward their conductor who looked back with an unreadable face. Silence settled again at the sight of the woman and they waited. And waited again with hope shining in their eyes.

After what seemed an eternity, a huge grin split Shizuma's face. "Let's do it."

Her declaration was acclaimed with cheers until a trumpet wisely stated: "But we have no one to play with…"

And killed the ambiance instantly. Good boy.

"Do not worry," the conductor shook her head. "I know someone who would be the perfect choice," and the woman was certain that_ she_ would accept her offer. She rose from her seat, taking her phone along the way and left the room under quizzical stares.

It answered after the third ring tone. _"Tired of being in the pit, Shizuma?"_ A low female voice asked playfully.

"Not quite yet," she laughed.

"_Pity. I could really use you_," the woman sighed dramatically.

Amber eyes shined mischievously at the words but the conductor made no comment, considering who she was talking to. "I might need to use _you_, actually."

"_Oh, now this is interesting," _she felt the smile in her voice. _"But you know I am not in classical stuff anymore. Boring."_

Shizuma chuckled. "I know. But I'm not asking you to come back on stage for an opera."

"_Aww, No?"_

"No," the woman shook her head. "I want you to come with your whole band. Come and play with me." Shizuma could swear that her interlocutor's breath caught up at those words. Such an unexpected request. Especially coming from someone who had all her life mostly listened to classical and only classical. Yep it was a great change, and knowing that, the girl on the phone grinned.

"_I will be here in __a month,"_ she agreed. They talked a little bit more and ended the conversation_. "And transmit my regards to Nagisa. It's been a while since I last saw her."_

"I…" Shizuma was bewildered. Of course being away from the country like this did not help to get the news. And it was not something to be told over the phone either. "I will," she managed after a while. Hanging up, she remained silent for a moment.

A victorious grin spread her lips. They would get this concurrence.

* * *

**This chapter gave me hell. Mostly because it decided on its own will and without ****- of course - concerting me that it would disappear and never come back again when I was almost done with it. Hopefully super me found a trick and got most of it back and had to re-write some parts. Then Hotmail decided to anarchically blacklist my beta and send her corrections in the limbos. So it explains the delay, I'm terribly sorry.**

**When I was writing the third chapter I was like "Yeah! Finish up this one quick so you can write the flashbacks in the fourth chapter" turned out those flashbacks were definitely the hardest to write (also they've been written after the whole chapter so I think one or two things are missing/hard to understand, if you are confused, please tell me). Anyway you've noticed that the flashback parts aren't in italics for the simple reason that it'd have messed up with the thoughts and also because the said part takes a good half of the chapter in itself and having a whole block written in italic isn't pretty to the eyes =) hope it didn't confuse you.**

**I am sorry for writing a pseudo lemon scene between Isis and Leslie but as you may have noticed it by now – or so I hope, if it's not the case go up and re-read the chapter - she is not lesbian. Aaand again I'm trying to be realistic. And I was giggling nervously while writing the one between Nagisa and Shizuma. I'm so sorry for the poor quality of the said lemons; the thing is I'm definitely not an expert when it comes to write about stuff as intimate as sex either in English or in French so if someone feels generous enough to give me courses about how to write a good and **_**tasteful**_** lemon I'm all ears. **

**If you have comments about how the story is so very fucked up, drop a review =D If you want to worship me, drop a review as well.**

**Mhm, as for the fifth chapter, it's on its way. Understand: nothing is written yet. =) And college is starting again which means I'll actually have to **_**work**_** this year. Kill me.**

**Vocab**

**Passionato: It's a way to play a piece. It means with passion, or passionate. Literally making love to the keys, as a friend of mine said.**

**A quiproquo is a misunderstanding. This word is often used in plays.**

**Grazie is thank you in Italian.**

**Prego means you're welcome.**

**Salute is hello.  
**

**Il nostro piccolo segreto is the Italian for "our little secret".**

**Je te rends ton amour means I am giving back your love. Actually it's the title of a song with lyrics that makes you want to shoot yourself:**

**I'm giving back your love**

**At least for forever**

**I 'm giving back your love**

**Mine is too heavy [implicitly "for you to carry on".]**

**And I'm giving back your love**

…**If you did not hop off a window by now and want to feel a little more depressed, the singer is Mylène Farmer.**

**Merde is a French curse. Literally translated it means shit or crap. Though it can be understood as "Damn, damn, damn" when Shizuma says it while running in the stairs.**

**About the flashback, originally there was supposed to be a part centered on Dennis and Miyuki when he goes back to London and leave Shizuma alone in Milan. But the chapter is already long without me adding this scene (meaning I was too lazy to write it) if you still want it nevertheless, let me know and I will put it as omake at the bottom of the fifth chapter. **

**One last thing. The fic in itself has already been planned from the very beginning to at least the seventh chapter (no it does not mean the story will only have seven chapters). I have a plan and specific events coming up, if they somehow look like something you've written in here the past few days/months, it is only a coincidence. To give you an example, the flashback in this chapter was planned since the end of chapter one. =)**

**A thousands thank you's to Wicked White Queen again who gave me her precious help on this giant chapter.  
**

**By the way, have anyone seen the last movie of Almodovar? If so, did you like it? I'm still struggling with myself to know whether to watch it or not.**

**Until next time.**

_**Hazel.**_


	5. Chapter 5

***Le wild author appears!***

**I'M SO SORRY that it took over six months to update but between life, college, drama, family problems and health issues (cheers people! I almost died and you'd never have had the next chapter lalala) let's say the atmosphere wasn't inclined to productive writing. Once again, sorry. **

**You guys are a bunch of perverts by the way. The previous chapter is the one that has gotten the most hits and visits among the fourths so far. Admit it, you only wanted to read some naked action going on hm?**

**More characters from Strawberry Panic's cast are appearing here =) so I hope you like it.**

**Traviata: hello there! Thank you and I gladly accept your help, I'd have had contacted you earlier if you had an account/left an e-mail next time put spaces between the dots. So yes if you don't mind asking your mom about the workings of an orchestra, that'd be great I have ton of questions, send me a pm if you can =) Also, about your side note, I try to explain each word written in italics as well as I can in the notes at the end but I am aware of the difficulty this might be for the reader (this is one of the reasons explaining the mature rating too), I have a question though, it's the music related specific words or the ones in foreign languages that bother you? And don't worry I'm not offended at all! it's great that you pointed this out so I can work on it, nobody's perfect we're here to improve after all.**

**About Chostacovitch, I had a super long explanation about it that ended being confusing so I'll sum it up. Both spelling (Chostacovitch and Shostakovich) are valid. The latter being the purely English version of the former which itself is the usual translation from the Cyrillic to Latin alphabet. I think it's easier for English speakers to understand its pronunciation when written that way? Another example is Tchernobyl and Chernobyl the only exception that comes to mind right now is Tchaikovsky …anyway, I guess I find it prettier written with a 't' than without, please pardon my selfishness ^^**

**I don't know Strawberry Panic!**

* * *

**Legato**

**by Hazel Liebovsky**

* * *

Chapitre Cinq

"No. No, no, no. Stop it." Isis walked to Leslie again. "You have to give more strength," she shook the poor man by his shoulders. "Don't be so stiff. Relax," he completely froze upon noticing how close they were. Only a breath apart. Their eyes met and a strange warm feeling invaded his body as he started to lean in unconsciously, shutting his eyes. And then…

"We are not disturbing you, are we?" A female voice enquired with light sarcasm.

Brown orbs snapped open. Leslie turned his head to the right. Meeting about fifty pairs of eyes directed toward him. He flushed bright red before clearing his throat. Silence settled a few seconds before the whole orchestra burst in laughter, reddening the man's cheeks even more.

"Anyway," Isis intervened again. "Be clear in your indications," she gazed at the orchestra. "And you, stop bashing him." Heads nodded in all submission. "Good," she walked to the dais again and settled in position.

One last glance to Leslie and she raised her finger to let the music start. The musicians played, focused on their music sheets as the concertmaster darted her eyes back and forth between them and Leslie on her left. He was staring at the violinists trying in vain to lead them or at least to make them only _look _at him. They did not. Rebel brats. After an eye roll, Isis checked her watch._ Oops…_ "Okay guys, stop."

Music stopped immediately. The musicians stared at her with surprised expressions on their features. Only Leslie threw her a desperate look. _How is she able to do that?_ They were listening to her as if she was God himself. Or Shizuma. He joined his seat completely defeated.

"I need to go," she smiled apologetically. After another glance at her watch, Isis went on. "Shizuma should be coming soon, in meantime please behave. And listen to Leslie for damn's sake!" The concertmaster scolded.

Heads acquiesced again. Some grumbling lowly about the man's lack of charisma. A flicker of sadness made it through the blonde violinist's face when he heard Isis pronouncing the conductor's name like this. _As if_…as if they were _friends. _The glint disappeared as soon as it came and he rose up from his seat to take her place.

As soon as Isis left, the chatters and laughs began again. Leslie's eyes ran over his peers' heads in a vain attempt to get their attention. No, he was definitely not Isis to be able to froze them on the spot and make them listen. And he was surely _not_ Shizuma to get their attention with a simple flutter of eyelashes.

The concertmaster closed the door silently and walked to the exit while fighting with her coat. That cast was really a pain but she was not going to complain. Today was a good day. A huge smile was splitting her face, widening when a random guy kept the door open for her. She was even tempted to hum a song. Yes, today was a good day, definitely.

"Where are you going, young lady?" Philip was walking back to the building with a smoked cup of coffee and mini donuts.

Blue yellowish eyes lingered on the food for a few seconds. "Hospital," she answered as her face lit up again.

The manager's brows furrowed a little bit. That was the first time that he had ever seen someone be happy to go to the hospital. He nodded, lost in his thought before smiling suddenly. "I see. Don't you want to wait for her though?"

Isis gave him the blankest look ever. "You're basically asking me to choose between Shizuma and a free massage, right?"

Philip chuckled lightly at her question, already knowing the answer. "Enjoy yourself, young lady," he paused on his tracks before speaking again. "Her friend is coming too, by the way."

The woman faced him again. "Who?" She got an unusual and slow shrug for response and thought about it for a few seconds. "Same. Whoever that friend of hers might be, they surely are not worth a massage," she smirked. "Let alone a free one." Not even her highness Queen Elizabeth would not, she wanted to add.

Philip chuckled and Isis walked away to the metro station, the smile never leaving her face.

-0-

She released her last smoked breath and entered the warmer place. Quickly scanning the place, the concertmaster made her way to the reception and queued silently, earphones plugged in her ears diffusing an old fashioned air of rock. Well, old fashioned for others but for her, it was glittering gold. Her turn finally came and she was greeted by a brown eyed secretary who scrutinized her from head to toe, being rather insistent the earphones. Isis quickly removed them and flashed her an apologetic smile.

"Hi," she hid them in the pocket of her coat. "I have an appointment." Silence answered her and she précised, "With your physiotherapist."

The other woman kept staring at her, not caring about how uncomfortable this situation was starting to be for Isis. "Surname," she finally uttered in a bored tone.

She cleared her throat before answering. "De Vasconcelos."

The secretary suddenly turned pale. She stared back at Isis, a mix of fear and terror on her face. The other woman quirked a confused brow when she saw those brown eyes darting everywhere, as if searching for someone. "Y-you're alone?" The secretary asked with a little voice.

Isis looked left to right, at the same time perplex and amused by her reaction. "Hm…yes? I think so?"

She sighed in relief. "T-the physiotherapist, right?"

"Yes," the concertmaster gave her an encouraging nod. "That's it."

Fingers typed on the keyboard and the secretary focused on the screen, her eyes drifting back and forth from the list to Isis' surrounding. Afraid of spotting Shizuma's spectra coming from nowhere. "S-second floor. The lift is on your r-right."

Isis thanked her and walked to the lift. She pushed the second button, a confused expression on her face. _What was that…? _Why that secretary looked like she was going to piss her pants anytime soon? _Could it be that Leslie had…_ no. The concertmaster shook her head; he would have told her otherwise, wouldn't he? Or at least mention it.

"Wait!" A voice drew the woman out of her dozing and she quickly put her foot in between the shutting doors. They opened on grey eyes and white teeth that formed a smile. "Thanks," he said and leaned nonchalantly on a corner.

_Gorgeous._ That was her first thought. _Sexy…_was the second quickly followed by more or less unspeakable ones. Isis eyed him discreetly from the opposite corner of the tiny-not-so-tiny lift. She cleared her throat.

This was going to be a _very_ long journey to the second floor.

A whistle echoed in the room, crashing the concertmaster out of her M-rated bubble. The man whistled lowly again and it made her smile when she realized he was whistling a song. One those that she knew by heart.

_'Cause baby…  
There ain't no mountain high enough…  
Ain't no valley low enough…  
Ain't no river wide enough…  
To keep me from getting to you__…_

The smile widened_. Oldies goodies..._she thought. The sixties were definitely a good time. The bell rang and Isis went out of the lift, closely followed by the stranger. She turned to the right. So he did. Walked straight on. So he did. Turned to the left. So he did. Not being able to hold it anymore, the concertmaster turned around abruptly, facing the rather tall man.

"Are you following me?" She asked loudly, almost angrily.

He narrowed his grey eyes in confusion – and she felt guilty for thinking it was cute -. "No…?"

It was her turn to be bemused. "Then why were you on my back?"

The man smirked. "Maybe…because my office is there?" A finger pointed at the next door.

Ridiculousness does not kill as they say. And it's better that way, because if it were the case, Isis would already be dead and buried by now. Instead of that, her foolishness almost flustered her cheeks. Almost. She reluctantly uttered a little 'sorry' and walked away as he entered his office with a smile.

Exchanging his coat for the usual white one, the man sat to his desk checking the list of the patients he would have to relieve of their more or less skilfully faked pain. A sigh came out of his mouth. _One more very busy da—_ the sound of knocking broke his train of thoughts.

"Come in." The smile reappeared again when he saw the person entering. "Are _you_ following me?" The man said playfully.

Blue yellowish eyes narrowed at him for a few moments, sending chills down his spine. "It seems like I have an appointment with you."

"Oh really?" He went on with the playful tone nevertheless. Isis pointed at the cast to emphasize her statement. "May I have your name then?" The smile widened.

The concertmaster sighed. This guy was cute yes, but he was irritating as hell. "De Vasconcelos."

The smirk dropped suddenly. _So it's her…_

"It's me what?" She cut him. What was with people turning pale every time she says her name? This hospital was weird.

The physiotherapist rose from his seat, visibly puzzled. "Heh…did I say that aloud?" He chuckled in embarrassment when she nodded. "Well…" the man walked slowly to the table to prepare it. "It seems like your fellowmen…love you _very_ much I'd say."

Isis looked at his back with a confused expression. _What happene—oh…_Leslie. Right, Leslie. "Look," she started. "Forgive him for whatever he might have done or said to you; he was…worried," she gazed away.

"He?" The physiotherapist unfolded a towel and put it on the table before facing the woman again. "I am pretty sure it was a she." He smiled to her. "Quite a funny girl if you ask me."

_A she…?_ Brows knotted again. It could not be one of her siblings, knowing them, Isis had decided not to worry them over nothing and put Leslie's number in the case 'person to call in case of emergency' In fact, she didn't want to have four people running and screaming hysterically at the doctors. Little did she know that someone had filled their role perfectly. Her eyes widened when it hit her… it couldn't be…_Shizuma…?_ "With grey hair?" Isis asked to make sure they were talking about the same person. "Long ass silver hair?"

The man chuckled before nodding. "Yep. She threatened the secretary to buy the place and fire her if she did not tell her where you were."

_O-okay…_ so this was starting to become weird. Why on earth would Shizuma Hanazono also known as the most careless and heartless woman she ever knew threaten someone like this for her sake? Then again the conductor although she asked her to come back, she also made sure not to burden her and considerably lightened the concertmaster's schedule. She did not have to stay late to work anymore, she could go when she wanted _and_ she was paid. For nothing. She was paid. And this was great. So…_maybe I've misjudged her?_ _Maybe…_

Shizuma _cared _about her?

Oddly enough, Isis wanted to smile. It felt…pleasantly weird in a strange way.

"Miss De Vasconcelos…?" A waving hand drew Isis out of her thoughts. She shook her head before taking a few steps back. When the hell did he come so close to her? "I'm sorry," he said, acknowledging this as a reflex of defense. "I did not want to frighten you, but…" the physiotherapist pointed at his watch. "I think we should be starting."

"Yeah, sure," the concertmaster removed her coat with difficulty, glaring at the man when he walked to her in a gentlemanly attempt to help. She was _not_ a damsel in distress, damn it. "The table?"

He hummed in approval, turning back to take something in the closet. "Sit on it for now. We have to remove the cast to see how the healing process has been do—are you alright?" The physiotherapist enquired when he realized how pale she looked.

Blue yellowish eyes were not leaving his hands from their field of view. They did not blink. Not a single time. "T-this is a saw, right?" Isis asked in a frightened tone.

He glanced down. "Yes?" Before chuckling lightly. "Oh, I see! Don't worry. It won't hurt you."

She was unable to move. "B-but this is a saw."

"It's a special one," the man replied, amused. "It won't be in contact with your skin, only cut the cast." The concertmaster inwardly winced at the word 'cut'. "I promise," he added.

She looked at him like a frightened animal, and for a split second he really felt like rushing to her and hugging the woman tightly to reassure her. Only for a second, though and he gathered his spirits. After a few minutes of pondering with herself, Isis finally walked to the table and sat on it. She was shaking in her place and it was starting to make him feel nervous as well. Damn this woman, why was she having so much power over him already?

"Alright," he sat on the chair, facing the table. "Stretch your arm please."

Isis did as told and the man noticed her shaking fingers. Their eyes met for a few seconds when he looked up. _Yellow…? Is that yellow in her eyes? _He shook his head slightly and refocused on her arm. The sound of the saw made her cringe. She would have jumped off the table if he had not prevented her, a hand wrapped around the other arm.

"Don't move, it's almost finished."

The physiotherapist did not lie, and in five minutes – that felt more like a century to Isis – the cast was removed, finally freeing the limb after two months of complete stillness. It felt weird to see that her wrist was still here. Over the months passing by, the concertmaster got accustomed to the cast, even forgetting why it was there in the first place sometimes. A tiny white scar on the back of it caught her attention though. Longer enough to be noticeable, discreet enough not to be too apparent nevertheless.

"That's where the stitches were," the man informed her. "They've completely melted, which is a good thing." He then proceeded to palpate the wrist slowly, meticulously. His fingers feeling the skin and the bones under it…as well as the little iron rod placed there. "Does it hurt when I touch?"

Isis shook her head, still eyeing the scar. Now, realizing what she has gone through. What she _would _have to go through if she wanted to play again. "I feel ants in it, though."

He nodded, still focused. "It's a good sign. Now take a long breath," his right hand came under her left slowly. They were palm against palm when he gently raised his and moved Isis' wrist in the process.

She winced.

The physiotherapist stopped immediately and smiled in apology. "I'm sorry. It's a little too early for that," he massaged her wrist slowly while examining both of her hands.

He rose from the seat after a while and walked to the closet again. Blue yellowish eyes directly fell on his backside like a reflex. _Nice view…_ "I will give you a new cast," he went on, still searching while she hummed absent-mindedly, eyes glued to his butt. "A lighter one, it will allow you to move your arm more freely." The man made a sound of approval when he finally found what he was looking for and abruptly turned around only to find his patient's gaze in between his legs.

_Shit!_ Isis locked eyes with him as quickly as she could, trying to keep her composure and the slight bit of pride remaining. "Yes?"

A finger pointed at the splint. "This one is the best for now," she nodded and he went on. "It will keep your arm and wrist straight. I'll give you a smaller one next month," the physiotherapist sat in front of her again before gently taking her arm and place the splint all over it like an armor. Making sure it was tight enough to keep her limb still. He sighed in contentment and walked to his office when he was finished, closely followed by the concertmaster who was moving her arm up and down then left to right, enjoying her newfound freedom of movements .

The physiotherapist smiled at the childish behavior and victorious grin that was splitting Isis' face. He sat to his desk and she mirrored him. His grey eyes lit up when he noticed the fluttering dimple on her cheek. "So…" pen scratched on paper. "A session twice a week to begin with." She nodded and he went on. "But I want you to work at home too. This is the base of this reeducation program."

The physiotherapist outstretched his hands and she got the hint, giving him her arm. Expert fingers quickly found what they were looking for and he stroked the point slowly. "You feel that?"

"Yes…"

"You have to stroke this area every day before you sleep and when you wake up. Do not remove the splint though."

She nodded and he released her arm. The physiotherapist wrote something on a paper before tearing it and giving it to the woman. "If anything goes wrong, or if it hurts, call me."

Fortunately Isis was wise enough to keep a completely stoic face when he handed her his phone number. Simply nodding. She only gave him a faint smile when he shook her hand to say goodbye. But when he closed the door…oh, when he closed it.

The concertmaster was radiating with joy and it's all grinning and glowing that she went back home.

* * *

They entered the building silently. On her way to the concert room, Shizuma got stares, as usual. But today was not like the other days, no. The gazes were curious, envious. Full of admiration as always. Of lust for some, of anger and jealousy for others. But…something changed.

They were not directed toward her. At all.

"Seems like my attempt at coming _incognito_…failed much." Sparkling hazel eyes directed their accusatory gaze at the third person walking next to them. She got a humph and it made her smile.

"I do not think this extravagant outfit was needed," the younger woman shot, a threatening finger pointing back at her. "Seriously Yaya, why this _hat_?"

The raven haired woman smirked. "But darling my skin is delicate!" She said in an over dramatic tone, using all her knowledge in lyricism to make the situation as dramatic as possible. It only elected another grunt from the girl. "Besides, you cannot deny its _badassery,_" Yaya added twisting the large black hat left to right.

"You look like a satellite dish."

Tsubomi knew perfectly that she had won this round when the woman's breath caught up in her throat, stifling back a laugh. "Alright brat, good one. Good one."

The girl winced at the nickname but smiled to Yaya who gave her one of her devious smirk before gently reaching for her hand and squeezing it.

Shizuma kept walking, absent-mindedly listening to their exchange. Although she was very happy to see her friends back in town, the conductor had to admit she was still very worried. About the concert that was supposedly taking place in three months. The keyword being _supposedly_. They were not ready at all and most importantly, the joke they had as intermittent concertmaster was a total mop. Shizuma sighed. She should not take it all on Leslie, really. The poor man was trying his best…it just was not _enough _for her. He had not the soul of a leader although Isis was forming and training him as much as she could. Late practice at her flat after the one with the orchestra was his daily routine even if Shizuma knew nothing about it. But still he just…he was not…

He was not Isis.

And that's what was really bothering Shizuma deep inside her, even if the woman did not want to admit it.

_I'm losing it…_ the conductor shook her head. Her once praised capacity to adapt to any orchestra – and incidentally its concertmaster – she deigned to lead was long gone, blown away by a certain musician with bewitching technique and looks. Now that she was used to the best, it was hard for Shizuma to lower her scale of requirements but now she did not have any choice. It made her growl quietly as they reached for the living room where everybody was waiting.

Sweet scent was the first thing that reached their nostrils when they entered the room. Fresh coffee, juice and other foods were placed on table. Behind the said table was the whole orchestra looking back at them.

Yaya quirked a brow at Shizuma. "That's your team?"

The conductor nodded. "Indeed…," turning her head to the musicians, she went on. "Guys, let me introduce yo—"

"Yaya…Nanto…" a man cut her.

"Holy shit!" Another added.

"God exists…" a third one went on.

Cacophony rose in the room as each musician commented their arrival. Some of them began to tear a piece of paper and rushed to the raven-haired woman to ask, no to _beg _for an autograph. This was without reckoning on her glass heart manager also as known as Tsubomi who froze them all on the spot with one of her icy glares.

"Don't _even_ think about it," she threatened them, placing herself in between Yaya and the ragging horde.

The silence settled, no one daring to move from their position. Shizuma ran her eyes over the heads quickly. _Isis is not here…_ Damn. "Where is…"

"Hospital." Philip's voice echoed just behind her. She turned around only to be greeted by a warm smile. "She is sorry not to be here," he lied skillfully. Yes because Isis was all but sorry not to be here, actually. "But she did give you some…homework if I may say," he added.

"Home…homework?" The conductor repeated, incredulous.

The man smiled at her puzzled face and reached for his case. "Here. She said you needed to watch those," he added while handing her the DVD's.

Shizuma eyed the cover for a long time. It was a picture. A smiling man was standing on a dais in the middle, surrounded by about fifty young musician wearing suits but having their bowtie loose or their shirt unbuttoned. They were all broadly grinning at the camera and the whole picture was conveying happiness. She felt her lips curving up at the sight, until two things caught her attention. One, the five people standing out of the orchestra with guitars, drums and a keyboard. Second, a brown haired girl looking exactly like Isis was standing in the first row with a crooked smile.

"Hanoi…" she read silently. So that was one of their world tours she read about on the Internet? _Interesting…_ this could be helpful indeed. She grinned to Philip. "Thank you."

"Aww Tsubomi, no need to bark, relax!"

Yaya's voice caught the conductor's attention and she observed the scene before her. _Real children…hopeless. _"Ladies and gentlemen, please take a seat." They did not move and she sighed. "_Now_," Shizuma added.

All the musicians were seated in a blink of eye.

"Now…that's called authority," the raven haired woman commented lowly while seating as well. "Take a leaf out of her book, darling. Might be useful," she ended with a smirk and winced suddenly when an elbow reached her sides.

Shizuma waited for Philip to sit next to her and cleared her throat. "It seems like a proper introduction is not needed…" she started. "As we agreed last meeting, Yaya accepted to be part of our opening act for the upcoming concert." Huge grins were already splitting the faces around her. "Which means…extra hours."

The smiles immediately dropped.

A bassoonist tried to speak; the conductor gazed back, gesturing for him to wait a little bit. "This concert will _not_ be easy. This is not a simple representation, this is a _competition,_" her eyes narrowed. "A concurrence against orchestras that have nothing to prove to anyone anymore, unlike us. Do you know what that means?"

"That we…need to work," someone answered her rhetorical question.

"Exactly." Shizuma spoke again. "Work as much as we can to outrun them. To be _perfect_. So far I have been pretty nice to you." Some grimaced, they knew what was coming. "This time is over. I will not require anything but the best from all of you. I will not accept anything but to be in the top. There is absolutely no way that we allow anyone but us to win this concurrence. Understood?"

Silence answered her until she heard claps on her left. "Nice speech. Really nice." Yaya broke the heavy mood and bringing a few smiles back. "I know how demanding this might be for you," she said truthfully while eyeing each musician. She was at their place not so long ago, after all. "Don't forget to have some fun though!" The woman cheered. "We wouldn't like to look like those uptight ass Parisians, now would we?"

This was enough to bring back a good mood. Prolific for studious working. They started to discuss the logistic of the concert before drifting to other related subject until reaching the thorny one of what would be played during the opening act. Truth be told, Shizuma followed Yaya's career from a distracted eye since she abandoned opera. Back then, they had met time on time, the conductor in the orchestra's pit and the other girl on stage. The once young chorister, after being one of the most wanted and bankable lyrist singer of the profession had decided on a whim to give up this promising path to be what…a pop singer? No, not pop, no. It was more…more…disordered. It was definitely…

Noisier.

_That's it!_ The conductor nodded to herself upon finding the perfectly fitting word. Critics were, as always, indignant at this brutal change and they – as always – predicted the poor girl a tragic fall in the abyss of forgetfulness, and they – as always – were wrong. The reconverted singer and her band reached a popularity Yaya never dreamed of as a simple opera singer. Not only was she famous in the profession, no. She was a rising _star _known all over the world. Their peculiar style mixing orchestral instruments and more aggressive ones, added of course to the raven haired's lyrical formation was enough to make people rush to each of their apparition. Yaya loved her job. She loved what she was doing. And she was definitely the best at it.

But it was still noisy.

For Shizuma at least, definitely not her cup of tea. But she would work with it. "What do you suggest?" the conductor asked to her friend. "Do you have something in your repertory that would fit?"

Yaya massaged her knuckles in deep thoughts. After two minutes of complete silence, Tsubomi sighed in despair before reaching for her ear and whispering. The singer's face magically lit up and she turned to her lover.

"You know, this might be a good idea actually," she patted her head, deliberately ruffling the younger woman's hair like she would do to a pet. "Keep this up, brat. You're getting better at it." Yaya laughed at Tsubomi's angry expression before sweetly stroking her cheek in an intimate gesture. "I meant it," she uttered. "Thank you…" and reached for her lips.

Shizuma cleared her throat, nipping the kiss in the bud before it could actually happen. "We need to work," she added as a forgiveness pretext.

"Way to ruin the mood," Yaya mumbled. Some musicians promptly nodded at her statement.

The conductor brushed the comment with one hand. "So what do you suggest?" She repeated.

"Fifteen minutes."

"That's all?" The older woman couldn't help but comment. It was too short. Definitely.

"You want to blow their minds off their skull?" Shining hazel eyes full of mischief met hers. "Then trust me, those fifteen minutes are largely enough to get them high." A mysterious smile crossed the singer's face at those words.

* * *

"Again."

"Bu—"

"One more time," she cut him. "Try again."

Leslie settled in position, he played the same piece he had been playing for the past couple of hours. The conviction was gone though, and Isis let out a desperate sigh. "Come _on_!" Frustration was dangerously taking control of her being. Why couldn't he get it already? "How many times did I tel—"

"Look I'm tired, okay?" Leslie interrupted. He was exasperated too. Exhaustion and intensive extra hours of practice were not meant to go together at all. "Give me a break! You're worse than Shi…" the man caught himself, but it was already too late. Blue yellowish eyes were already narrowed at him. _I'm dead…_

Isis' features softened after a while. "Fine," she walked away to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and crashed on the newly fixed couch which manifested its disagreement to this assault in a tired growl. _Oops…sorry buddy,_ she tapped the back of the sofa. Leslie joined her silently as she took a sip from the bottle.

"I'm sorry," he said after a while, stroking on her leg. "I did not mean it."

"Bet your ass, you didn't," the concertmaster handed him the bottle and he gladly accepted it. Gulping more than half of its content. "So who is that mysterious friend of hers?"

The man closed his eyes, enjoying the comfort. His muscles were sore and he could not feel his fingertips anymore. "Yaya Nanto," he said in a lazy yawn.

"You're kidding me, right?" How in hell could Shizuma have something to do with Yaya Nanto. They were perfect antagonists.

"I'm not," Leslie was slowly drifting to a peaceful slumber. "It seems like…" another yawn. "They knew each other since high school or something, I don't know. Yaya kept talking about…" the man started to snort slowly, not able to finish his sentence.

His head leaned on her shoulder unconsciously as she gazed at the empty TV screen in front of them. _Yaya Nanto… _that name kept ranging in her head. Sure, Shizuma had the most unexpected social network for a conductor. Those people were cocky enough not to get involved with the common people in the profession aka those who were creating music that _everybody_ enjoys. This little whim caused prejudice to them and especially to their music that was now considered tacky, bourgeoisie. Simply unreachable for people under fifty or with empty wallets. It had always bothered Isis, this established frontier between classical and other music styles. This inviolable law deciding they were not meant to work together. Sure the woman loved classical but more than anything else she loved music generally speaking. The great music, the one that makes you _feel _something. And this privilege was not only reserved to classical, no. Screw this well ordered organization.

Someone was finally going to prove them wrong.

And Isis would have the ringside seat to witness that.

-0-

A frown had decided to settle up permanently on Shizuma's forehead as she was somehow trying to lead her orchestra. _What's gotten into them…? It seems like_, like back in the first day of practice when they would try to impress her and ending up doing the exact opposite. But this time, the conductor was not the only one to frown, no. Brows knotted in confused thoughts, Isis was intently observing the scene from the first row of seats. Her legs were burning. Burning to get up and go up there to scold them, but she remained still. Only gazing at Leslie who was again trying – and failing - at his assigned job. It's only at this moment that it hit the young woman. Something was out, yes. But it was not the musicians' fault, no.

It was Shizuma and Leslie's.

The bond between the concertmaster and the conductor was broken. It was not here, replaced by a series of more or less cold glares sent by one or another party when one of them was messing up. _Why didn't I notice it earlier?_ Isis growled at herself. This could not go any longer, someone had to do something about it or they would all be screwed.

The woman rose from her seat and walked to the stage. "Stop," she said louder enough to cover the instruments. "Stop the music."

Shizuma was startled by the sudden voice, forgetting Isis was in the room. She looked back at her, completely bewildered. "Pardon me?"

"I said stop." Isis repeated, and before the conductor could form any other words she went on. "Look, we are not getting anywhere with this practice now, and_ you_ know exactly why." The woman emphasized the word while looking back and forth from Leslie to Shizuma. She refocused her attention to the orchestra. "Guys practice is over, go back home and rest a bit. Don't forget to work."

All the musicians – including Leslie and Shizuma who was seriously wondering who the hell was the boss in here – stared back at Isis with mouth agape and eyes wide. Did she become crazy? Did she want them to fail? Did she _really_ want to piss the conductor off? They were definitely too tired to seek an answer to their questions and they started to pack silently.

"Wait!" Shizuma's voice froze them on the spot. It was not the usual one. It was…cold. Their assumption was confirmed when they looked up and saw those amber irises threateningly narrowed at the other woman. "What do _you _think you're doing?" She spoke coolly, her tone full of venom and eyes throwing daggers at Isis.

Maybe it was the sudden cold settling on the room and chilling down her spine. Or the fact that Shizuma spoke _really_ too slowly to be a good sign or even the flames dancing in her eyes right now, but Isis knew she had gone far this time. Too far. Taking her dais for the sake of the orchestra was one thing. Leading for the sake of the orchestra was also one thing. But _this_ was a pure and simple public humiliation. This is how the conductor perceived it and the younger woman knew it. But guess what? She didn't give a damn.

"I'm doing my job," she answered the question. "Now if you want to argue about it, let me tell something. One: we do not have time to deal with _anyone's _mood," Isis locked eyes with Leslie again before returning to Shizuma. "And two: deep inside you, you know that I am right." The concertmaster fought back the smirk that wanted to show up not to stir the conductor's anger more than necessary.

The said woman remained silent, and Isis took the opportunity to dismiss the orchestra, for good this time. Leslie was going to join his peers when she stopped him. "Not you. Stay here."

He turned around, the helmet under his arm. "But why?"

"Because it's also your fault that we wasted another day of practice," the concertmaster shot back bluntly.

Shizuma chuckled at this remark. Abruptly stopping when Isis glared back at her.

The three of them walked out of the concert room to the place where the conductor and the concertmaster usually worked. Isis was the last one to enter and she closed the door behind her. As she turned around, the woman noticed how the two people were trying to avoid each other by all cost. Both of them leaning on opposite walls. Engaging a glance war. Gauging the adversary. Like lions fighting over a prey. Waiting for any move from the other to jump at its throat.

She sighed.

"You are the most _immature _people I have ever seen in my life." She broke their torpor. "Was I to be the conductor I would have fired your asses already."

Shizuma icily stared at her but she said nothing.

"You know," Isis went on. "I don't care about whether you two get along or not. You want to bleed each other to death? It's fine with me. But don't involve the orchestra in your stories. Don't screw up months of hard working over your business. I will not allow this, were I to be overriding a certain someone's authority or not." She looked back at the conductor with a dead serious face.

"Now," Isis continued. "It is obvious that you both are not able to give up on your oversized pride without affecting the orchestra as well." The woman breathed, showing a key. "Time to use something else. I am going to get some food. In meantime, you my dears will be locked in here." A smirk shined on her face.

"What?" Leslie straightened up suddenly.

"This is childish Isis," the conductor spoke. There's no way she would stay with Leslie. Let alone against her will. "Don't do that."

"Exactly. This is childish but you made me. Blame yourselves," the concertmaster replied. "Look, when I come back, you better be talking to each other. Or else, I will get angry. For real this time."

After a menacing glare to each of them, Isis disappeared behind the door, the key locking Shizuma and Leslie in the room.

They could both swear that they heard her laugh echoing in the corridors a few moments later.

-0-

"This is stupid," the woman finally muttered after ten minutes of silence.

"I agree."

Amber orbs immediately snapped at him. Shizuma's face was unreadable but the message in those eyes was clear. It totally was _his_ fault for acting like a cavern man back in the hospital. It was _his_ fault the orchestra was no longer following her and it was_ his _fault that she was wasting her time, locked up in a room with him.

Leslie sighed and shook his head.

A deafening silence settled again, both of them trying to fight the boredom. Shizuma grabbed her phone and pretended to be busy with it.

"I love her," he said after a long time of pondering with himself. Better make the first step. "I love her," the man repeated. "Fear was consuming me back there." Shizuma looked up again. Leslie was looking through the window. "I felt so…so helpless. I didn't know what to do…they would not tell me anything. _Wait, a doctor will talk to you later. Please stay calm._" The violinist added; quoting the sentence he had heard numerous times on that awful night.

The conductor's eyes widened. Those words echoed in her head, reminding the woman of her own...

"_She is still in intensive care for the moment, Miss. A doctor will come to you later on, please stay calm."_

The lump forming at the back of her throat was hard to swallow. _Kaori…_ Shizuma looked at the ceiling to fight the tears back, taking long slow breaths. Regaining a little composure, her gaze fell on the man who was now looking at his feet in a shameful manner. This time, what she saw was different.

He was no longer her enemy.

He was that sixteen-year-old high school girl, lost in this big building. He was that girl, surrounded by men and women in white blinding coats. He was that teen who screamed the most hideous curses she knew to the doctors who would not tell her what was happening. He was that young adult who kicked a security man straight in between his legs when he tried to lead her out of the hospital.

No, Leslie was not her enemy.

"I know how it feels," she uttered, almost to herself. Those were not compassionate words people usually say to sooth one's pain. Those were the truthful words of someone who had already used this path, until she reached the borders of insanity. "I know…how it feels..."

It was he that looked at her this time. Shizuma was gazing at the table, eyes dull as if she was no longer here. The man opened his mouth in shock as he noticed a tear running down her eye. He was going to speak again when she looked up at him with such intensity that Leslie found himself speechless again. The conductor took a long breath before looking away.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "For my behavior…I'm sorry."

"No…no, it's me," the violinist said, straightening up and walking to the table. "I shouldn't have reacted like tha—"

"You did not do anything wrong." Shizuma cut him with a low voice. "I should have known better…" she whispered to herself. Her face became suddenly a lot more serious. Isis was right; they could not let their issues drag the orchestra down. With a swift movement, the conductor outstretched her right hand to Leslie.

"Peace?" A gentle smile was crossing her face.

The man eyed her before smiling widely as well. "Peace."

They simultaneously sighed in relief. Shizuma sniffed lowly as the memories rushed before her eyes. She had to leave this room, right now; she didn't want Leslie or anyone else to see her in this state. Damn Isis for keeping the key! In meantime she sat on a chair in front of the table and lowered her head, silver strands hiding her face. _Think about something else…Think about something else!_ The conductor kept repeating to herself. Her ears caught up the sound of steps coming nearby and she allowed herself to breathe again.

"She's coming back." Leslie pointed out only to receive a nod from the sitting woman who was still looking down. He was going to speak again but the opening door cut him halfway.

Isis' head popped up and she gazed back and forth from one to another. "You still here?"

"You locked us in, remember?" The man answered dryly.

A laugh echoed in the room before the concertmaster spoke again. "Nope!" She said with shining eyes. "I made you _believe_ it." The set of keys turned around her index. "Those are my flat's ones."

Shizuma forgot her internal turmoil for a few seconds to glare at her silently and so did Leslie.

"You did _what_?"

Isis put her arm in defense when she saw the man walking to her. "Easy, blondie, easy. Question of life or death."

"I can't believe it. And you _dare_ say we are the immature ones here?" He pointed at her with a finger.

The concertmaster flashed him a smile. "Look, at least you both have solved your problem now," her eyes drifted to Shizuma and her lips came suddenly downward. "Or not…" she uttered to herself before refocusing on Leslie. "You made her cry? Seriously, I let you alone twenty minutes and you find the way t—"

"He did not do anything." The older woman cut her while standing. "Problems are solved. The orchestra is safe," she spoke with a ghost voice, making her way out to the bathroom.

Blue yellowish eyes questioned Leslie's when she left the room. "I don't know," the violinist shrugged. He took his helmet. "Dinner tonight?"

She nodded absent-mindedly. After two minutes of stillness and when she made sure Leslie had left, Isis walked to the bathroom. The first thing that she heard was the water pouring loudly in the sink, followed by occasional sniffs as if someone was trying to catch their breath again. The concertmaster did not knock, slightly opening the door for her to come in. Shizuma was looking straight into her reflection with her hands tightly gripping the border of the sink. It looked like she was trying to see through herself. Isis cleared her throat to be acknowledged, not wanting to catch something she was not meant to. Amber eyes drifted to the concertmaster's reflection slowly.

_Say something! _"Ah…um," she averted her gaze a few seconds. "Look I…I'm sorry, okay?" The grip on the sink loosened a bit and she went on. "I didn't mean to…" _to what? Push her buttons? Face the truth you totally wanted that,_ a voice scolded in her head and Isis looked at the woman again.

"It needed to be done." Shizuma decided to speak. She quickly fixed herself and turned around, walking to the door where the concertmaster was still standing. "Thank you for your clairvoyance and initiative."

The conductor walked past her before being abruptly stopped by the woman's valid hand grabbing her arm. The sudden movement caused Shizuma to turn and face Isis. They did not say anything, blue yellowish eyes scanning amber ones, in hope to find something, anything, a clue giving away her state of mind but Shizuma was staring blankly at her, having put back the mask she reserved to everybody else. Isis gave up after a while, releasing the older woman's arm. The conductor walked away silently when the concertmaster called her name. She turned around and had just enough time to catch whatever was thrown before it hit her in the eye. She looked carefully at the packed tiny square in her hand.

"What is that?" Shizuma looked up to see Isis' back walking away.

"My white flag." Her voice echoed in the corridors as she disappeared.

It drew a faint smile on the conductor's lips when she looked at the candy in her hand.

* * *

_Pom…Pam…Pum._ She could feel the headache coming. _Dshh…Pam…Pum. _Throbbing at her temples. _Pum…Dssh…Pum._ And the saddest thing about it? Shizuma couldn't tell anything to the drummer that has been playing – understand knocking loudly – for the past twenty minutes. Pain invaded her head in rhythm with his sticks as he engaged a very passionate – understand noisy – drift. The cymbal rang again as man reached the pinnacle of its solo, and Shizuma her peak of tolerance to him and his goddamn instrument. She sighed in relief when it came to silence, but her joy was short lived as his throbs let their place to clapping sounds when the musicians of her orchestra cheered his performance.

"That was great!" One shouted above the applause. "Really great!"

Another one whistled loudly like a fanboy.

_Pathetic…_ that was first the word coming to the conductor's mind at the sight. How could they cheer him when the only thing he had done was torturing their eardrums and giving her a killer migraine? Brows knotted in deep thoughts as Shizuma tried to understand his appeal and the musicians'_ groupiesque _behavior to something that sounded like a shapeless soup of sounds.

"He's good, isn't he?" Yaya's low voice came at her side. A smile was crossing her face.

"Ah…yes?" It was more a question than an affirmation.

Soft chuckles answered her; Yaya knew this has never been Shizuma's cup of tea. She knew it since the first time they worked together. The conductor might be irreproachable when it comes to interpret Carmina Burana and highlight the voices on stage, but she was as clueless as a newborn baby when it came to contemporary music. Or what people that were _not _Shizuma Hanazono simply called music. The raven-haired woman did not mind it actually. It will be funnier.

"Your guys are good too." Yaya felt like she needed to add.

"Thank you." Shizuma said. "But you haven't seen them practicing yet," she added as a matter of fact. "Don't jump to conclusions."

She caught the woman shaking her head from the corner of an eye. "I trust your judgment. They are good," she repeated. "Especially that chick over there," her finger pointed at a woman that was actively talking to the drummer. He was nodding slightly as she spoke, then doing signs with his sticks before nodding to her again.

The conductor's lips curved up when she spot who Yaya's finger was pointing at. "I know."

She noticed the slight change in Shizuma's voice and smirked. _Another one…_she knew it. She knew her, way before Nagisa came in sight, she knew how the woman used to treat girls before Kaori and Yaya also knew she started again a few years after graduating. She couldn't say exactly when it began, but she just knew. Playful looks, light strokes on a burning skin, little conversation and honeyed voice were the sign she came to acknowledge about Shizuma's player demeanor when it came to women she wanted to seduce. Though…something seemed different this time. For having witnessed the conductor's doings countless times, Yaya knew something was out. They were not flirting with each other, no…

They were _talking. _Working together and sometimes…_ smiling_. It was not those deceitful smiles she had seen numerous times on the conductor's face. Seductive and fatal. No, those were genuine and real. They were colleagues. No predator hunting the prey, they were…friends.

"Who is she?"

"My concertmaster." Shizuma answered. "Not available for the concert though," she added, observing the splint on the woman's left arm.

"I see."

Yaya kept looking at Isis from afar. The said woman turned to Leslie and whispered in his ear as he acquiesced slowly. He turned toward his peers and spoke while the woman walked to Shizuma and her friend. The singer and she haven't had the chance to properly talk to each other yet mostly due to Isis' delayed schedule. Not even a brief introduction. Though, from the occasional looks Yaya received from her, she knew it was not necessary.

"We…I mean, they are going to try something," the concertmaster stated. "Strings and drums for now," after a quick glance toward Shizuma, she added, "If _her highness _is willing to lead, that is," emphasizing the world and doing a mock reverence.

The conductor scoffed which made the two women grin.

_Interesting…_ Yaya told to herself. _Very interesting. _"Why not playing with the whole orchestra?" The arching eyebrow on Shizuma's face informed the concertmaster that she too was wondering the same question, too proud to voice it herself.

"Because the strings and drums need to get along first before we can add any other instruments…" a confused expression settled on Yaya's features, Shizuma mirroring it. She looked at the conductor. "You did not watch the DVD's, did you?"

"Oh…" _I forgot…_ "I'm afraid not yet," the woman answered lowly.

Isis sighed and shook her head as she thought about an understandable explanation. Eyes locked to the ground, she chewed on her bottom lip slowly before wetting it with her tongue, unaware of the sudden lustful gaze this gesture instantly drew to her lips. A pair of mischievous hazel eyes was watching the scene with amusement. Her head snapped up to Yaya a few seconds later. "It's like…making a cake, you see?" The singer nodded and she went on. "There are a few primordial ingredients you need to mix before the rest, or it will be awful."

The woman nodded again, slowly understanding the concertmaster's logic. "So if I follow you the drums and strings are…"

"The flour and eggs respectively," Isis finished her sentence with an embarrassed smile. "I know it sounds silly like that but that's how it is, really."

She chuckled while shaking her head. "No worries, it's alright."

Actually, she was very pleased by her tentative explanations. Where she thought Isis would have used specific words and spreading her knowledge across their faces - thus complicating everything - like the numerous musicians she worked with, the young woman had actually managed to describe the situation with words that everybody could understand. Yaya smiled, remembering how her very first singing teacher had done the same thing back when she was around ten. That woman was the definition of awkwardness when it came to dealing with grown-ups, but with children? She was a goddess. Always finding a funny and understandable way for her students to understand the meanders of music. And she just realized Isis had done the same. _She must be great with brats, _she thought to herself, observing the concertmaster that was now talking to Shizuma about the orchestra. _I like her…_

"…eed to watch them, Shizuma." Isis' voice drew Yaya out of her thoughts. "Otherwise this is just pointless to make them work…" her splinted arm vaguely pointed at the stage. "…If_ you_ screw everything up."

The concertmaster knew she touched a sensitive string when amber eyes sensibly widened before narrowing at her. The conductor was vain, and like all vain people she did not like to be held responsible for something. Throwing this burden on someone else's shoulders was way easier, mostly because then she would not have to hear the words '_I told you'_ that were an insult to her condition as well as an efficient way to crash her ego. Fine, Shizuma would watch those DVD's, she would study them carefully and examine each and every second of them. If only to avoid an 'I told you' that she knew Isis would gladly use every time she had the chance, if the glim passing through her eyes right now was any help.

"I will _not_," the conductor said, determination shining in her voice. She was not going to mess up her own work. They would ace this concert, and they would ace it _good_. She held her chin up in a cocky way while looking down by all her height at Isis for a few seconds before finally walking to the stage.

A moment of silence passed by as the two remaining women looked at the conductor that was now glancing left to right in order to let the musicians know they had to settle.

"You have tricked her…" Yaya murmured, a little shocked by how easily Shizuma had fallen into her trap.

"I know." Isis replied with a huge grin. Truth be told she did not expect it to be as easy. Seems like Shizuma's ego was as big as she thought it was. Bringing it up in a topic was the best way to stimulate her, like she thought.

The raven-haired women looked at her in utter awe and the concertmaster glanced back wordlessly. They shared another moment of silence before bursting in laughter. "This is what I call a masterpiece," Yaya said, the mirth evident in her voice.

"Thank you," Isis replied as they both took a seat in the last row. Away from the orchestra so they would not bother. "I had practice," she added with a smirk.

The singer nodded. "I can see that," this statement led to another question she had to ask. "How long have you known her?" Surely to be able to fool the former queen of Astrae like that without her realizing, that woman had to know Shizuma for yea—

"A couple of months."

Yaya looked at her completely dumfounded. "Are you kidding me?" She asked with wide eyes. She had to be kidding, how could she do that? It took years for the raven-haired woman to be comfortable around the conductor. And even now, there were times where she felt they were still at the dorms, Shizuma walking around with shining pride and confidence while the girls worshipped her path.

"No…?"

She cleared her throat. "It's terribly odd…" at the confused look Isis gave her, she tried to explain herself a little better. "The way you act around her." The weirdest thing being how Isis figured Shizuma's personality so accurately in so little time when she knew the conductor was so secretive about herself. Only Miyuki could brag about how well she knew her, as for Nagisa…their recent break up was the proof she did not. _That girl must be a witch or something…_the woman thought. It was the only explanation she could come with.

"I've been told that a lot," the concertmaster said, now playing with the scratch of her splint. Her brows furrowed suddenly. "She's always been…like that?" She waved her hand towards the stage, pointing the conductor.

Yaya looked at her thoughtfully, a finger tapping on his chin. "It's gotten worse when she became Etoile, but yes."

"_Etoile?_" Isis repeated with a perfect accent.

"Oh sorry," the woman smiled in apology. She had forgotten the concertmaster was not part of Astrae. Her smile turned into a smirk, it'd have been very interesting otherwise. _Indeed…_ she paused, searching for a concise answer without going into explaining all the useless school's traditions. "Let's say that it was a title given to the most popular and loved student among the schools. There was a vote and stuff, and she was elected." Yaya purposely avoided talking about the partnership, not wanting to reveal too much about the conductor.

Isis barely contained the laughter that was threatening to burst out. It all made sense now, Shizuma has been conditioned since then to think high of herself. Her behavior…it was all making sense. "It explains her starlet demeanor." She figured the woman must have been popular during her school years, but she just realized how much. People _voted _for her for God's sake!

Yaya smiled again. "I guess it does."

They both refocused their attention to the stage where the object of their conversation was struggling to lead the strings correctly. Sending death glares to the drummer once in a while because he was playing too loudly to her taste. The sole fact that he was actually _playing_ irked her not to end. If someone was going to mess it up, that would probably be him. They reached the pinnacle of the movement where the string played louder, somehow trying to follow his throbbing. She inwardly sighed, as the hardest part was coming. Hardest part consisting into an abrupt stop of the music to let the drummer do his drift. It has always been hard to do that with every orchestra she had to lead as it demanded a full synchronization of the musicians and herself. The drummer was definitely making it worse. As expected the clean and abrupt silence she wished for turned into a hubbub of disaccorded notes that made Shizuma cringe and shut her eyes. The frown on her forehead deepened and her arms fell at her sides.

Oddly enough she was not so sure that they were going to ace the thing anymore. _How can I…_

"You focus too much on the drums," a voice broke her train of thoughts softly.

Isis was standing next to the dais. It almost startled the conductor as she did not know when exactly the woman had climbed on stage. _I didn't hear her coming…_ surely because of the drummer Shizuma decided before sending him another glare but his head was turned the other way. "Uh…" was the only reply she could manage.

"You focus too much on him." Isis repeated. "Mind your own business, he knows what he is doing," she did not mean it in a bad way, that is why she added a smile to her remark while staring back at her. The concertmaster broke the eye contact to focus on the man on the left corner. "Slow down a little bit, don't forget they cannot be as fast as your sticks."

"Sure!" he nodded.

"As for you," the woman was now facing the violinists and violists. "Don't try to catch up with his pace," she raised two fingers. "Nobody will notice if you are two measures late. Everybody will if you are not synchronized with each other."

They acquiesced briskly, some of them wondering where her knowledge did come from. Isis returned her attention to Shizuma again. "You deal with them," she pointed vaguely at the strings. "I will take care of the overall for now."

_How…what…?_ Part of the older woman wanted to argue with Isis for as the concertmaster was again trampling on her position, her ego did not like it very much. But the part of Shizuma that was actually _thinking_ was grateful someone was willing to help her, someone visibly more experienced in this domain and capable of handling the thing. Though, deep down it was still frightening her senseless. Admitting weakness was something she was not used to. It was not part of the personality she forged. Then again Isis had seen her in compromising positions numerous times if what happened on her roof's building two months ago and in the bathroom a few days ago was any help. There was also that time before their first concert. The concertmaster never mentioned them again. She never _used_ them against Shizuma like the conductor thought she would. A sudden realization struck her at this moment. _I can,_ she thought_...I can…_

_I can trust her._

Isis kept eyeing the conductor silently. Noticing as the older woman was seemingly in deep thoughts. She waited for her wrath to strike her and how easily she would dismiss this _absolutely ridiculous_ idea of sharing her task. Thus the nod she received had her staring in shock at Shizuma. "Wait, you're serious?" She asked to be sure she did not misinterpret her gesture.

The conductor nodded again.

"Say it."

"Isis…" Shizuma warned. "Don't make me regret my choice."

A huge blinding grin split her face at this moment. She had her answer. "I won't." A mischievous glint made it through her eyes. _Let's see how far I can push…_ "Can I have your dais too? You know, to see everybody and all." An icy glare froze her blood at her request. "Okay, okay." She waved her hands in defense. "Was just asking."

With that, the practice started again. The conductor only focusing on leading the strings and Isis with her eyes drifting back and forth between them and the drummer, gesturing for one of them to slow down or to play louder once in a while.

From her seat, Yaya had witnessed the whole scene silently. Amazed at the two women's complementarity and understanding. She smiled to herself after a while. _Interesting…_

* * *

She tiredly dragged herself to the door, dropping her luggage at her feet while scouring into her purse. After a sigh and some more searching, she finally found the set of keys she had been given a few months ago. Nagisa opened the door, pushing the bags in with right foot. Another sigh came out of her mouth, of contentment this time. She threw the keys on the little bowl placed on the nearest furniture.

"Welcome home," a voice greeted from the living room.

As always when it happened - meaning almost every day - it took Nagisa a little bit of time to realize she was not alone. It had startled her the first times for as the young woman was not used to it back when Shizuma was running around the continents. Welcomed only by a deafening silence that she was furnishing with that pop music her ex-lover dearly hated.

_Shizuma…_

Last month, the thought of the older woman would have brought tears to her eyes. Hurt, pain, regret, even loathing. But now, she was feeling alright. It still stung though, but it was bearable. Nagisa could deal with it, and learn to live again like she promised to Isis. The concertmaster and she had talked a few times after that meeting, one mostly listening while the red head was pouring out her frustration and pain. She never asked her questions about how Shizuma was doing, she had the feeling the woman would not have answered her anyway. Still, Nagisa was really grateful to Isis for her presence.

"A piece of cake for your thoughts," the voice that had greeted her earlier spoke again. This time, it was much closer.

The woman smiled to Tamao who was leaning a shoulder on a wall. She was grateful to her too, more than anyone else in fact. When Shizuma and she just broke up, Nagisa had found refuge at her friend's place, not really thinking and not really knowing where else to go. At first, it was just for a few days, just enough to heal her wounds a little bit and then she would find a new place she would call home. But the days passed, and Tamao refused to let her go, she refused to leave her alone like Shizuma did so many times so she convinced Nagisa to stay, for a while longer. Not defining how many days or months this while actually meant.

"You went to the grocery?" Tamao asked, pointing the bags at the girl's feet.

"Ah…um, yes." Nagisa looked down as well before glancing up again with a faint smile. "I thought it would be a good idea to make dinner for them since we haven't seen each other for so long."

She mirrored her smile. "Indeed, it is," and grabbed one of the bags. The red head followed her to the kitchen with the second bag in her arms. Tamao was already opening the fridge to pick up some more ingredients.

"How is your writing doing?"

She was working on her third book for almost six months now, but unlike Shizuma who liked to lock herself in a fortress of dead silence when her muse was kicking in, Tamao needed noise. A lot of noise. That is why Broken Embraces was born in that little café across the street. The cacophony was helping her to focus, the scents stimulating her inspiration and even at home she was not able to concentrate without a background sound. The T.V. or the stereo were filling this role perfectly…and now there was Nagisa. Her long time best friend, her…potential lover. _No…_Tamao forced the thoughts out of her mind. _Not now…not yet._ Nagisa did not need this for the moment. She needed comfort. She needed a shoulder to cry on; she needed support through this situation. _I can't burden her with my feelings now. _She glanced up at the red head that was still facing her while lighting the stove.

"It's going pretty well." Tamao said truthfully. Her friend's arrival had influenced on her writing, she could not deny it. It was less…draining. Lighter and definitely more enjoyable. The conflicted situations, the tortured characters some that were even figuratively skinned alive, on the edge of their lives. All this pain spilling out of them was gone, letting its place to a relaxing serenity. She liked the change. "I might even be able to propose a first draft in a month or two," another upside of Nagisa's presence was also the sharp increase of her writing pace. Her mind was literally boiling. Something that her publishing house will surely be happy about.

"I'm glad," the other woman smiled. And she really was. Also because even if this sounded like a shallow chit-chat, Tamao was talking to her, answering her questions when they talked about her work, she was not trying to silence her with a kiss or a blinding smile. They were communicating. A faint smile tugged her lips at the realization.

They continued to talk while making dinner, Nagisa was smiling all along. Something she has been doing more since her arrival. An hour and half later everything was ready and the red head had just the time to customize the last napkin before the bell rang, signaling they had a visit. A huge smile split her face when she heard Yaya's voice.

"Yo, where's the turkey? I've smelt it from the lift. Don't tell me Nagisa gulped it already?"

"Yaya!" Tsubomi interrupted.

"What? It's a legitimate ques—hey Nagisa!" She walked to her and greeted the red head with a big hug, the other returning it as feverishly. "I've missed you," the woman said in a breath.

Nagisa pulled back, the smile still set on her features. "Me too," she then turned her attention to Tsubomi and gratified her with the same mark of affection.

It had been almost a year since they last saw each other. Of course there were phone calls and some rare video chat sessions, but it wasn't the same as a real face to face conversation. Nagisa could not hold it against her friend though. She was living her dream, sharing it with her lover, both of them having the life they have always wished for. A flicker of sadness made it through her eyes at the thought but she did not let it spread across her face and it disappeared as quickly as it came. _I've promised_, she told herself…_And I will keep this promise._

The four women finally settled around the table, enjoying their dinner and catching up with the last gossip. It really felt like those tea parties they used to have at the dorms behind the sister's back. There would be Hikari and Chiyo as well. _Hikari…_Yaya felt suddenly nostalgic at the thought. The blonde woman after graduating had tried to follow the same way as her best-friend in arts but decided otherwise after a few months and turned into the perfect _housewife _for her beloved horse-riding champion. She was happy with her life, and that was the most important.

The night went smoothly, plates succeeding plates succeeding to a dessert. Yaya kept eying Nagisa from afar. She seemed…at peace with herself. Truth be told, the raven-haired woman had noticed multiple times how tormented her friend was back when she was involved with Shizuma. How draining and life-sucking their relationship was, no matter how good she was hiding it behind those smiles of hers. The singer knew it. Nagisa was not the one who would be able to tame the conductor. To appease and sooth the wildness inside her and to finally help her find the peace she had been longing for. She was not the one made for her, just like Shizuma was not the one Nagisa was looking for. The ever caring person who would be always by her side to reassure her. To comfort her into a warm loving embrace to tell her those three words over and over again. To be _here_ for her, as simply as it was. Shizuma was not, but there was someone else indeed…hazel eyes drifted to Tamao who was sitting next to the read head. The always caring friend. The secret-not-so-secret admirer, the clichéd best friend in love with the bride. Hopefully for Tamao, stuff turned in her advantage, slowly but surely. She never gave up, unlike Yaya. Always hoping, always fighting secretly. Where was the point in turning the page? Getting over it? Nonsense! Finding someone else? Who on Earth could replace Nagisa? Who is the person that would make her heart beat this fast and her stomach clench? The answer was simple: no one. There was no one else that Tamao could possibly love as much as the red head, hence why she never considered the idea.

_I wonder when she'll finally tell her… _Yaya thought while chewing slowly. _Better wait a bit…_ she had already waited seven years, she could back off for a few months more, couldn't she? _Her patience is killing me._ She felt herself smiling, slowly turning her head to Tsubomi who was sitting by her side. Tamao's patience was indeed killing her, but the one Tsubomi has - and still do - showed towards her was still surprising her. Without her legendary stubbornness, Yaya's defenses would not have worn themselves out. She showed her that there was a life after Hikari, a good one. One where she would finally be able to love and be loved in return. The smile suddenly brightened. She took Tsubomi's hand in hers and squeezed it slightly. Her lover got the hint and turned to her, suddenly blinded by the grin she was facing.

_Thank you_, Yaya mouthed discreetly.

The other woman gave her a confused look and she couldn't help but smile again before shaking her head slightly. Tsubomi shrugged and squeezed back.

_Yes…thank you so much._

* * *

"Aww! That's so cute!" A female musician squealed. "She looks like a mini version of you!"

A sigh echoed at the bottom of the room. "It's because it _is_ me." Isis said, trying in vain to hide her irritation and sending the umpteenth glare of the day to Shizuma who feigned not to see her.

Why the hell did she do that? Fine, the concertmaster gave her the DVD's as a material to work with for the upcoming concert – that was in less than a month – but it was only for _her_, damn it! Not the rabid bunch of voyeurs that was now eagerly watching the screen and commenting every time she was on. To her defense, the conductor only said that everybody needed to watch them and take a great example on how _polyvalent _and _talented _their concertmaster was. In reality? Isis was sure it was another conspiracy to turn her life into a complete hell.

"Who's that girl next to you?" A guy asked when the screen showed Isis and another woman playing in tandem, focused on the sheets.

"Excuse me?" The concertmaster came out of her dozing.

"That girl, who is she?" He repeated, pointing out the screen. "She's hot! Do you still have her phone number?"

Another sigh echoed in the room. See? That's _exactly_ why she did not want any of them to watch the stuff. Blue yellowish eyes stared at the screen. "I don't," she lied. Well it was not totally a lie because even if she still had it, Isis had not called her or anyone of this orchestra for a while.

Never, actually. Or at least not since she was settled in London.

She felt nostalgia rising. Her friends; she was missing them very much. Those people that were once part of her life, part of her being. Where were they now? What were they doing? Did they think about her time on time, like she was almost every day? Did they miss her? What will happen when they meet again? Will they jump in each other's arms and cry or give her the cold shoulder of ignorance? Isis shook her head. N_o, she wouldn't…they would not. Never_. Still, those questions have always been playing in her head, but they were even more persistent now, ever since Philip told her about the concurrence when she first joined. They would meet yes. They would fight against each other for the very first time. She was awaiting this encounter eagerly as much as she feared it.

Yep, fear and apprehension. Excitement too.

Isis shook her head again in order to clear her mind. _Don't think about this now…_ focusing on the next concert would be better indeed. Especially that she was making plans when they still did not know if they could make it through the first step already. The concertmaster scanned the room, noticing it had gone silent for quite a while now. Everybody was glued to the screen. Well, everybody except Shizuma who was somehow managing to take notes in the dark. _She's damaging her eyes, _Isis sighed internally. The young woman refocused her attention on the screen. The orchestra was playing the hardest part of the concert. She saw those faces in deep concentration, eyes drifting quickly from left to right, reading and performing at the same time. _The perfect synchronization…_her arms were crossed on her chest as her fingers slowly began to move, lightly taping and pinching them like she would do to the fingerboard of a violin, remembering bit by bit the piece they were playing back then. How they had performed it almost every night during the four months of their tour. How she was always the first one to wake up and the very last to sleep, just because she wanted to be ready. No, she wanted _them_, all of them to be ready.

And how those moments were one of the happiest times of her life. Sleep deprived or not.

A little hitch on her left hand informed her she was pushing it a little too much and the concertmaster immediately stopped her gymnastics. She had made a lot of progress throughout the months, or so Adam the - irritatingly cute – physiotherapist had told her over the sessions. With a little bit of luck she would be able to remove the splint pretty soon, finally. A huge smile split her face at the thought. The woman had a lot of practice to catch up, four months of inactivity had considerably lowered her level and she was aware of that. But she missed the violin so much that she did not care extra hours of work. Yep, she did not care.

"Practice time," Shizuma's voice drew Isis out of her dozing. The conductor walked to the wall and turned the lights on, temporarily blinding the audience.

"What?" A musician intervened. "But it's already seven!"

Amber eyes caught the man who spoke. "You want to succeed. Yes or no?"

"Yeah bu—"

"Then this practice is needed," the conductor cut. "No buts.'"

The guy turned to Isis, silently pleading her to do something about it. Seeing how the concertmaster had the tendency to discuss Shizuma's doings lately, he had the wild hope she would be on his side.

The young woman looked surprised at the sudden rush of attention she was given. "What?" she tilted her head to one side slightly. The man made puppy eyes, soon joined by his peers. Isis' eyes drifted from him to Shizuma before settling on the guy again. "She is the boss, guys. Can't do anything about that, sorry."

A series of defeated sighs filled the room and the musicians slowly rose up from the couches and seats, some of them stretching or yawning. Shizuma sent a satisfied nod to Isis who winked back and followed the orchestra to the practice room. Yaya's drummer was already there, practicing on his own. He smiled to them when they entered.

"Thank you for coming," the conductor greeted.

"No problem!" He replied. "The guys will be a little late though. You know, dinner and stuff."

"It's alright." Shizuma settled on her dais, placing the notes she had taken earlier on the stand. She had to admit after having gotten over her inhibition, the drummer was a good guy actually. Eccentric much, but it was good.

"Wait, wait, wait." Isis walked to her. "You never told me you asked them to come too."

Her lips came upwards. "They are part of the orchestra for the time being. As such, it is only normal for them to practice with us, no matter how late it is."

The younger woman turned her attention to the drummer. "And you're alright with that?"

"Yaya told us we had to do everything she says." He shrugged, "I don't mind."

"Oh..." she nodded. "Okay."

Ten minutes later, the musicians were finally settled and their instruments tuned, waiting patiently for the conductor to give them the start. Shizuma was still writing on the sheets, leaned on the stand. After one last arrow and indication, she finally looked up. "Today we will focus on the part we have been avoiding those past few months." Meaning the abrupt stop.

A few sighs echoed in the room. They had purposely been skipping this part, the conductor stating that they had to move on and come back to it later or they would never be ready on time. Seems like the time had come. They had worked on their synchronization and understanding, with each other as much as with the band accompanying them. They were making progress indeed and she was secretly hoping it was enough.

Isis sat on the first row; her presence on stage was not needed anymore since Shizuma got accustomed to the different instruments invading her personal space. She could lead the orchestra while checking on the rest without any problem now. The conductor was going to give the start when she saw Leslie gesturing for her to wait. She nodded and he turned around his seat to talk with the violinists behind him. After their…forced discussion in that room, things have changed between them. Shizuma gave him some loose and he gained in confidence, finding his own techniques to get to lead his peers instead of trying to copy Isis'. Sure he was not as good as her, but the progress was undeniable. The man whispered again for a few seconds before turning back to the front and nodding at the conductor.

Shizuma took a long breath. She looked at the drummer on the far right and he acquiesced to let her know he was ready. After another breath her lips finally curved up, allowing the notes to fill the room.

-0-

Isis rubbed her temples in despair while looking at the orchestra. _They aren't getting it…_ no, they were not. They were tired and most importantly, lacked motivation. Hunger and exhaustion were lowering their focus and that was bad. From one hand, she could not blame them but from the other hand, the more professional one, it was worrisome because it meant they still had major issues to deal with unlike the two other orchestras. Not only Paris was definitely outrunning them, but China too, and this was unacceptable, for her as much as for Shizuma. It had become a personal matter now. After one last fail, Isis decided to act, she walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later with the candy box that was always in Philip's office. She emptied it and climbed on stage, gesturing for Shizuma to stop. The conductor conceded, shooting her a curious gaze.

"This…" the concertmaster showed the opaque box to everybody. "…Is our kitty," a sea of incredulous expression faced her. "Every time, and I really mean every_ fucking _time you mess up, every single of you is going to put fifty pounds in the box." To emphasize her statement, she put it on her empty seat and crossed her arms.

"What?"

"Are you crazy in your mind?" A female musician added.

"You want to ruin us?" A last one interjected, soon followed by a concerto of disagreements and brisk shook of heads.

Not failing in her resolution, Isis said nothing and allowed them whine for a few minutes. Shizuma was going to intervene but the younger woman reached for her arm and squeezed it to get her attention. Turning her head, the conductor saw the other shaking hers slightly. After a nod, the concertmaster returned her gaze to the orchestra that was still contesting. She stared at the last musician on the bottom left, when he felt her insisting gaze on him he stopped talking with his peers and looked back in silence. When she made sure she had his attention, Isis drifted to the one seated next to him and stared until he shut up. She repeated the process again and again, locking eyes with each and every of them until she silenced the musicians.

"Like I said," the concertmaster broke the silence with a softer voice. "You mess up. Money in the box. _All_ of you," she gave a quick glance at Shizuma at those words. The conductor was a little surprised at first but she decided not to comment and see how things would go. Besides, it's not like money did really matter to her.

A few heads nodded, conceding defeat. Violin number eight, however that was not pleased with the decision, and he made himself known. "What if we do _not_ screw up?" Musicians shot him bewildered looks before realizing he had a point. They all turned towards Isis expectantly.

The concertmaster eyed back and decided to put her last card on the table. "In that case…" she smiled. "And every time this part will be played like it should be…" she trailed off again, seeing as some had already started to fidget on their seats. "I will remove _one_ item of clothes every time it's done well."

Shocked. Shocked was the only word that could describe the faces in front of her and it was exactly what she was expecting. The orchestra was at sixty percent formed by men, and over time Isis spent observing the practice, she noticed that the female musicians were the ones who had the least difficulties and were mostly dragging the whole thing up. The males on the other hand, were easily distracted and lost their focus quicker before giving up completely. She had to find a way to…_stimulate_ them and this one was the only thing she could come with at the moment. _I hope they notice my willingness and implication at work…_who knows; she could even write it in her resume. Nota Bene: Is willing to make a strip tease for the sake of an orchestra

"You…would really do that?" A clarinetist enquired. She had to be kidding. It was impossible…or maybe it was a dream? Yeah, that's it! He was fantasizing again like he and his male peers has been doing since Isis officially joined the troop. She was a beautiful woman; no one could say otherwise even the female musicians were more or less gladly admitting they had some serious concurrence. A lot of people were envying Leslie because of the privileged relationship he seemed to have with the concertmaster, sending death glares at the poor man every time she was smiling or touching him. Hell, the guys had even made a list of the girls they would gladly, um, _promote_ in the orchestra. And guess what? The concertmaster was fighting for the top place with Shizuma, whose more than assumed homosexuality (she never talked about it) did not seem to put them off. Actually it was boosting their imagination, even more since Isis' orientation had not been clearly defined yet. Pictures of a ménage-à-trois popped up again and invaded his head.

"Yes." Isis said, unblinking.

After a moment of hesitation, heads started to nod, imperceptivity at first. Only Leslie was not pleased with her decision. The man understood that she was doing this for the orchestra, but he would not have imagined she would employ such extreme manners. He could feel a pang of jealousy shooting his inside and it saddened him for as he had no right to feel that way towards her. Not anymore, at least. The days he could call himself lucky to be the only holder of the right to see and touch her was long gone now. Their friendship tasted bittersweet in his tongue and Leslie sighed.

On the dais in front of the musicians, Shizuma – who had not said a word for the past ten minutes – was completely losing herself in a sea of more or less unspeakable fantasies. Her mind dozed off as soon as she heard Isis' offer and the golden doors of lust opened widely, inviting the conductor into this house of seductiveness. Even her mouth was getting watery. She would finally get a glimpse of what she had been longing for so many months, all that with the consent of the orchestra. The woman smirked. Life was good. Shizuma felt looked at and turned to the left to find blue yellowish eyes narrowed at her. In a way that was saying I know exactly what you're thinking right now and I do not like it very much. To which the older woman answered with one of her own I don't know what you're talking about and gave an innocent smile to Isis who shook her head.

"So?" The concertmaster turned her attention to the musicians again. They briskly nodded this time. "Alright."

-0-

When Yaya and the rest of the band entered they did not really expect anything in particular but for sure, they haven't imagined they would see _that_. Most of the musicians were broadly smiling at the two women facing them. One of which had clothes sprawled on the floor all around her. And judging by the looks it was attracting the view was definitely worth it.

Isis sighed at the knowing glances she was given. She caught Leslie who gave a helpless shrug at her desperate expression. A bunch of perverts. That was what they were. Mature people turned into rabid teenagers with hormonal wars. Why was she doing it already? Ah, yes. To help the orchestra through a difficult phase. _Yeah, and my ass is made of chicken…_the concertmaster told herself while studying the clothes on the floor. A vest, a light sweat, shocks and a pair of boots. Her jeans and tank top were the only barrier preventing those animals driven by lust to have a look at her underwear. If only the woman knew something like that was going to happen today she would not have worn mismatched undergarments. Blame the hurry in the morning that has become her routine.

On her right, Shizuma was showing the usual relaxed and stoic face. Oh yes, she was the personification of serenity and calm. On the outside only though, because if you scratched the façade a little bit, you would discover how…tormented she was. She heard a sigh and the sound of fabric rubbing, managing to fight the grin that wanted to come out, the conductor looked straight forward not to be spotted sneak peeking at the younger woman. _Sweet torture, sweet…_ All the looks were directed towards the concertmaster. Shizuma studied their expression closely and had to fight again the urge to turn to the left when the breaths caught up.

"…Tits…" A mesmerized violinist whispered before wincing when Leslie's elbow hit his side.

"No kidding," Isis shot back, her left arm crossing her chest to the right shoulder and the other one circling her body in a vain attempt not to reveal too much piece of skin.

This is where Yaya decided to interrupt the show and cleared her throat. "I did not know you were providing this kind of services," she laughed. "Methinks I would have gladly learned to play an instrument in order to join you."

Isis turned around with a confused look on her face. She had to look down at herself before it hit her. "N-no! It's not like that," she grabbed the top on the floor and quickly put it on before shooting glare at Shizuma.

Yaya chuckled again before spotting the box on a seat. "Who won the lottery?" She pointed the banknotes overflowing it. At this, the musicians sighed and she raised an eyebrow at the conductor.

"Fair trade," was her only response. "Shall we get started for good now that everybody is here?" This wasn't a suggestion; it was an order in disguise.

They settled again, the musicians that had just come were according their instrument while Yaya warmed up her voice. Isis discreetly came off the stage and proceeded to dress as silently as possible. This was without counting on Shizuma, of course.

"Thank you for your…" her eyes roamed on the concertmaster body as she spoke. "Very _precious _help," she ended with a knowing smile.

The woman had to use all her will not to make a sharp shot back. _Don't play her game, you're smarter than that…_ and instead gave the conductor a blinding smile. "My pleasure." Shizuma's eyes widened at the answer she was visibly not expecting this_. _A victorious grin crossed her face, widening when the other girl scoffed quietly._ Score! Vasconcelos: one, Hanazono: zero._

-0-

Practice was almost over; Isis was discussing logistics with the conductor when she saw the front door of the practice room opening. A smiling Philip entered and she nodded back when he greeted her. Shizuma was giving her back to the door, she did not see who had come until the huge smile crossed the concertmaster's face had her turning around. She saw their manager standing a few feet away from the door, but what got her breath catching up in her throat was the person accompanying him. The woman froze unable to move and remained still for a few seconds until Isis spoke.

"Go."

Confused amber eyes turned back to her. "But…" before looking at the orchestra.

"It's alright," the woman shook her head. "I take care of that. Now go," she ended her sentence by pointing them with her chin.

Shizuma nodded, staring back and forth between her and the person standing next to Philip. "Thank you," and she meant it, in more ways than one.

The conductor walked to them, her knees shaking a little bit. The man greeted her with a bear hug when she arrived. Smiling warmly. "How is the orchestra doing so far?"

Shizuma turned around, spotting Isis on the dais, signaling the musicians to gather together. "Very well."

"Good," Philip nodded before turning to the third person. "This is where I take my leave. I think the two of you have a lot to tell to each other," with that, he silently exited the room.

A silence followed his departure as the two remaining women were doing their best not to look at each other's face. The older one cleared her throat, gesturing to the door. "Shall we?"

They walked in the corridors silently, the deafening sound of their footsteps accompanying them.

"You look well," Shizuma engaged the conversation again, still avoiding eye contact.

"Thank you." Nagisa replied quietly before daring to look at her. "Y-you seem tired," she said truthfully.

The conductor chuckled lightly before nodding. "I am," this concert was bugging her, more than she would admit it. She could always fake an apparent good health but the bathroom scale could not be denied and the four kilograms she had lost were starting to show off. Another moment of discomfort passed before Nagisa spoke again.

"D-don't push yourself too much," she said in that tone the red head had used so many times. The caring one, worried about the well-being of her selfish lover. _My ex-lover…_she reminded herself.

Shizuma only nodded and they kept walking silently turning around in the corridors until both of them told each other's name at the same time. A faint smile appeared on the younger woman's features and she gestured for the conductor to go on.

"I…" she looked up and took a long breath, stopping on her tracks. "I'm sorry. For everything."

"Shizu—"

"No," the woman shook her head. "Listen to me," she waited for Nagisa to nod before speaking again. "I apologize. For everything I have done and for the things I did not do and should have done. You deserve to be happy, to have someone who loves you the way you should be loved," the red head stared down at her words. Shizuma took her shaking hands and squeezed them in order to make the girl look at her in the eyes. "I'm sorry not to be this person you are looking for," she went on. "I knew it and yet I chained you to me when I should have let you go. Impeding your happiness for my own selfishness because I…" the conductor shut her eyes a few seconds. "I was afraid of being alone again. I'm sorry," she repeated for the third time in a quiet voice.

Those were the words Nagisa truly did not expect. Excuses? From the ever perfect and flawless Etoile? Remorse concerning her feelings and their relationship? Seeking forgiveness for having promptly stolen seven years of her life? This, this was not the woman she once knew. The deep sincerity in her tone, the red head has not heard it since that night when she had talked to her about Kaori. The look in her eyes, and what she could see in them, it was so alien for Shizuma to be feeling that. For the first time in her life she was being honest, no lies and no façade for Nagisa as much as for herself and this, the young woman realized it. They were not those high school teens anymore, they were grown-ups. She had felt the frosts and burning passion of a first love when she was fifteen that had shaped the woman she had become. Now, Nagisa would be ready to resent the maturity of the real love. She smiled.

"Apology accepted."

Shizuma sighed of relief at those words and it made the red head giggle a bit. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, she circled the conductor's neck and hugged her tightly. Oh no, it was not like the last time no, this embrace kept no regrets and no hurt. The conclusion of a story that - even if it had been painful at times – was necessary for the both of them.

"I hope you find the one you're looking for as well, Shizuma." Nagisa whispered in her ear before pulling back. The older woman looked confused and the red head only smiled, shaking her head before telling her she had to go. They talked for a few minutes more and agreed on meeting each other again, this time to discuss about the red tape awaiting the both of them. The conductor eventually escorted her to the exit and rejoined the practice, leaving Nagisa alone.

_Yes, I hope you find her, _the younger woman thought while walking to the nearest subway. _Open your eyes._

-0-

A week. That was what remained before the concert. A single week. Seven days and night. Definitely not enough hours to be ready. Stress, difficulty to sleep, high on caffeine, these was the few symptoms this more than probable humiliation was causing to the whole orchestra. The whole? No, because an only incorruptible was stranding against all. Well, not really standing, rather relaxed. Yes that's it, Isis was relaxed. Not completely, but considering the state of her peers, it was an exploit. She did not feel the pressure this time because she knew she was not going to be on stage. Of course the concertmaster had worked hard for them to be as ready as possible but she was aware the rest was up to the musicians and that she could not do anything about it. Besides, if they dared to screw up four months of intensive work, they would have to face Shizuma's wrath, and this was worse than any bad critic they could get.

After having warmed up her muscles properly, the woman opened the violin case carefully. The midnight velvet velour inside shined and the back of her hand caressed the instrument slowly. She chose one of the three bows and grabbed the instrument with precaution before tuning it slowly. Turning the plugs like she had been taught years ago, frowning when the sound was wrong and letting a satisfied hum when she was reaching the perfect accord. The concertmaster straightened when she finished, her left hand shook a little bit before tightening its grip on the bow. _Light…light like a feather, _with this thought it caressed the strings and Isis released the breath she had been unconsciously holding. Her body relaxed completely as she continued to play snippets of pieces that were on her mind. After half an hour of this gymnastics and when she made sure her wrist was still alright, the concertmaster drifted to a complete piece and then dared to play another one, harder.

Shizuma had just come out of Philip's office. The conductor was walking back to the room where she usually worked to pack her stuff and go home to take a well-deserved rest. The manager had tried his best to reassure her, knowing how worried she was, even if she did not show it. But the little crowd that had already massed not far from the building was not helping much. Because of that, her head was throbbing uncomfortably as she reached for the room before stopping abruptly on her tracks.

_Music… _

And here she thought Philip and her were the last people remaining inside the building. Notes ranged at the conductor's ears and she thought she was hallucinating for a second. This wildness and this accuracy… the daring savageness in those notes. Shizuma could recognize it anywhere. It was something she came to acknowledge as Isis' brand. Something the woman had not heard for ages and she was seriously wondering what has gotten into their concertmaster. _Does she want to ruin everything?_ This thought struck the conductor as she briskly walked towards the source of music and shoved the door open, efficiently startling Isis and making her finish the movement with a wrong note full of grace.

"I will never get to finish any piece with you interrupting me like that you kn—"

"What are you doing?" Shizuma said with an icy voice, not bothering to let her end her sentence.

Isis shrugged and pointed the violin. "Obviously, I'm dancing." The conductor narrowed her eyes, instantly killing the attempt of joke. "What?" She was genuinely confused. "You're scaring me now. Please, say something."

"Are you out of your mind?" This sounded way louder than Shizuma intended to and she realized it when blue yellowish eyes widened. "You are recovering from multiple fractures on your wrist; do you even _know_ how many bones there are in it? Do you really want to ruin your chances to play ever again?"

She was almost shaking of rage right now and the fact that Isis had not tried to argue back and prove her point was only feeding her anger. Why was she taking so many risks when she behaved for months? And most importantly, why was bursting of laughter right now. Her unexpected reaction bewildered the older woman.

"You know," the concertmaster said while packing the violin back. "If I didn't know you better I would almost think you are worried about me," she ended with a sneaky smirk. "Now look at this." Isis raised her left hand at eye level and made a complete turn with her wrist before shaking it loosely.

Shizuma rushed to her and grabbed it halfway. "Stop that!" The younger woman froze and she took the time to examine the wrist, like she knew anything about it. The conductor palpated the bones but found nothing. "Why did you remove the splint?" Her tone was low but still angered.

"Now you are really starting to scare me, you know that?" Isis cut her before she had the time to protest. "Shizuma, chill out okay? I'm not in recovery anymore."

The said woman looked up at her with a confused expression. "How would you know?" She retorted, still doubtful.

"The doc told me," she answered with a victorious grin. "Seems like my bones are pretty fast healers."

"This is no reason to play Caprice six lik—"

"Five." Isis interrupted. "It's the fifth one, not the sixth."

"That's not the point," the conductor went on. "You cannot play like you used to, you have to be extra careful Isis and you know it. I shouldn't be telling you that." The grip on her hand tightened a little bit as Shizuma was squeezing it while talking.

"I am careful," she replied. "And before you frown again, it's been two weeks since the recovery officially ended. I've been taking it slow since then. I would not have been playing if the doc wasn't certain I could, believe me."

The older woman finally relaxed and straightened up. "Oh…" then only it hit her. "Wait, why didn't you tell me this when I first came?" She would have spared her saliva. Shizuma was pretty sure the adrenaline rush caused by the worry had eaten at least another ten minutes of her life.

"You kept on cutting me off."

"I would have listened." Shizuma lied bluntly.

Isis gave her a sly smile. "Seriously now? I think you needed to vent a little bit, I guess you took it on me because it was the easiest way."

The woman remained silent this time, knowing she had just been caught. Indeed she needed something to kick her frustrations out. Something her mind could focus on, in order to forget the concert, if not for a few minutes only. And it had worked well, she was feeling relieved somehow now. "I'm sorry," she admitted with a nod.

"Okay, you are seriously freaking me out right now. What in hell are you apologizing for?"

Shizuma was genuinely confused by the question. "Because…I was wrong?" Her own words startled her. Since when did Shizuma Hanazono ever apologize when proven wrong? She shook her head slightly. "Forget it."

"Yeah, thought so too." Isis nodded in agreement and returned the smile she was given. She felt light caresses on the back of her left hand and realized it was the conductor's thumb making circles on its own accord and that it has been doing it for a while now. The other woman had been holding her hand since she grabbed her wrist. "I think it's time to go. If you don't mind I would really like to get my hand back."

"Oh," Shizuma let go and took a step backward. "Sure." She herself did not know how or when exactly they – rather she – had come so close to each other.

The concertmaster turned around and closed the case carefully before taking her coat. "Go grab your things, I will wait here."

The conductor was taken aback by the implicit proposition and remained on the same spot until a raised brow deterred her to ask any question and just do as told. She came back a few minutes later to find Isis, back leaned onto the door staring at the floor. She joined her and the two women walked their way in a comfortable silence.

"You should stop worrying," the concertmaster broke the quietness.

"I was not worrying about you." Shizuma pretended. A chuckle echoing on her side.

"I meant about the concert." Isis précised. "But thanks. It's…touching," she laughed again when the other grumbled silently. "It will be alright," she went on. "Everybody is well prepared. More than we ever were back then," the concertmaster ended quietly.

"You looked to be doing fine on the DVD's," The older woman buttoned her coat when they reached the exit door.

"Yes, we_ looked_ like it." Isis replied. "We were just a bunch of brats, more happy to be in some exotic country than anything else, to be honest."

"I see." And yet, for having watched the videos countless times, Shizuma hadn't detected an ounce of hesitation in their way of playing. It was flawless. Another proof of how strong their bond was. All the members of the orchestra could count on each other. A cold breeze greeted them outside and she shivered and unconsciously came closer to the other source of warmth walking beside her. "If you didn't leave Paris, we would be competing against each other at the moment."

The conductor giggled at the silliness of the situation. If she had stayed in Paris, they would never have met, or rather; they would have never _known_ each other. She could have led it as guest and the younger woman would have been her concertmaster for a while. But that would have been it. Only a concertmaster and nothing more. Another faceless musician, maybe even another night conquest? Nothing like she was to her right now. By the way, what was she exactly?

"We would have had kicked your asses." Isis said without missing a beat, a smile creeping on her face.

"That's very true." She replied in all honesty after a short pause.

"I was joking."

"And I'm not." Shizuma slowed her pace when she saw her car. "Whether you realize it or not, the whole orchestra had changed. They were undisciplined and stubborn. They have evolved into real musicians, meticulous and especially passionate. Was I to reap all the merits of this accomplishment, I know this would not be fair for any of us. Because no matter my reputation or how skilled critics describe me as or even how much I love what I do, nothing of this could have been done without a concertmaster as talented as you. If you weren't here, nothing would have been possible."

An uncomfortable silence fell on the two women after this passionate tirade.

"Oh wow…" Isis scratched her cheek. "I was not really expecting that…" and cleared her throat. "I don't really know how to answer to this," she let out an embarrassed chuckle.

"A simple thank you should be fine, then." Shizuma did not let it show, but she was not expecting it either and was in the same state as the other woman. _What has gotten into me?_ Since when did she randomly spread compliments on people's face like that? Wasn't it like the second time already?

"Thank you," the concertmaster sighed when they finally reached the car. "This is where we split, comrade! Goodnight," with that, she walked away.

"I…could give you a ride to home." Oh, is it hope in her voice?

Shizuma had already opened the driver's door as Isis turned around. They kept silent for a few seconds, only looking at each other. A small smile broke the younger woman's face. "Nah, I'm fine. I like to walk anyway. Keeps me healthy."

The conductor's left eye twitched from the rejection and she nodded. "Be careful."

The smile widened. "I'm a big girl Shizuma. Besides, talking about health you should eat. Losing weight like that isn't good."

_So, she noticed…_"I shall get fat once the concert is finished," the conductor answered with a grin. It widened when Isis laughed.

"Do that." The woman turned around and walked away. For good this time.

The journey to her flat was eventless as expected and one hour later, Isis was sighing in contentment at the sight of the front door. A sweet and sour smell reached her nostrils when she opened it and a sound of dishes could be heard from the kitchen. The concertmaster unbuttoned her coat and carelessly threw it on the coat rack nearby. Something furry rubbed onto her tibia and it brought a smile to her face.

"Hello dear." Isis said lowly as she put the violin case on furniture and took the purring cat in her arms. His head immediately found the crook of her neck and buried itself there, enjoying the strokes he was given as she walked to the source of noise in the kitchen.

"You're late." Leslie was behind the bar, a towel on his right shoulder and two plates before him. "I made dinner."

"I know," the woman put the cat on his assigned worktop and went to wash her hands. "Practice," turning around, she gazed at the food and laughed out of the blue. "Are you sure you _cooked _this?"

He fell silent for a second before admitting defeat. "Fine, I bought it. Happy?"

"Very," mirth was still sparkling in her eyes. It made him smile.

"But I made the presentation!" Leslie retorted with a proud nod, showing the two plates with rice, vegetables and meat disposed with precaution. "How did you guess? I threw the boxes before you came."

Isis sat on a stool, mirrored by the other violinist. "Chopsticks," she pointed out. "They're still in their packs," and took a pair, skillfully digging them into her food. "Thank you, Mister Chef," she said after the first bite.

Leslie laughed and they engaged into a light conversation, drifting to one subject to another. Though, Isis felt that something was off with the young man. Knowing better than to push the topic onto him she preferred to wait until he brought it himself, which he did, at the end of their meal. "I have to talk to you about something."

"Yeah?" The concertmaster was peeling an orange, avoiding eye contact with him as she knew her gaze would only add to his discomfort.

"I…um," Leslie was playing with his sticks. _Oh come on! Tell her already!_ "I'm seeing someone. It's been a few weeks." _There, breathe now._

Isis continued what she was doing, a smile creeping on her face. "Oh, yeah?"

Truth be told, she kind of suspected something of the kind going on. They have stopped being intimate when the woman officially broke up with him four months ago but they were still hanging out together. Though, those _friendly_ dates were being more and more sporadic in time. Not that she cared, no. The woman was actually very happy that he had found someone. It was giving her time for some needed inner thinking. Plus she had already smelt that stranger's scent on his clothes, so the effect of surprise was dead anyway.

"So," the concertmaster went on, sensing that her interlocutor was already feeling better. "Do I know…him?" She asked with a serious face while looking at Leslie. The poor man stared back with wide eyes, completely helpless. His distressed features made her burst into an incontrollable laughter. "I'm joking, relax!" She punched his shoulder with her right fist, making the violinist rock on his stool in a wince.

"J-just don't say stuff like that! You know it makes me uncomfortable."

_That's exactly the point, Blondie…_Isis winked at him and ate a quarter of orange. "Does she work with us?"

Leslie declined when she offered him another quarter. "N-no she doesn't. She works at a library not far from my place."

"Wait, wait, wait. Since when do you know _how_ to read?" The concertmaster was sincerely bewildered and kept looking at the man with wide eyes. She had never seen him open a book or talk about one since they knew each other.

"Will you stop making fun of me?" He sent her what he thought to be a death glare and only earned a shrug. "…Besides, they make great coffee there…" the man added in a quieter tone.

"Ah-ha!" A victorious grin spread her face. "I knew there was something." She turned on her stool to face him completely. "So, you like her?" There was no hint of malice in her voice this time. It was a real question.

Leslie mirrored her posture, remaining silent until a smug smile broke into his face and he nodded like a kid. "I think I do. "She's..." he struggled to find the fitting word and frowned. "…Simple."

Ouch.

_Touché…_Isis thought to herself while maintaining a stoic face. Simple was not a word that could define the young woman. In fact she was everything but simple. Complex, indecisive and over-thinker could define her well and she knew she had given enough hell to her friend for him to be seeking something lighter. Someone _simple_. "I'm glad for you," she said with a genuine smile.

The man felt the sincerity in her words and grinned back while nodding. He skillfully stole the last quarter of orange halfway her mouth and gulped it, smirking at her surprised face. "How about you, anyone in sight?"

The concertmaster had risen up from her place and was starting to clean the bar, gesturing for Leslie to remain seated when he tried to help her. She hummed in deep thoughts while turning around and washing the dishes. _Someone in sight, eh? _Well, there was that cute physiotherapist Adam who had been sending her positive signs…or was it her imagination? The question was: did she see him that way? _Hm…_ he was the definition of handsome, that's for sure. He also seemed to be witty and had a certain conversation that included topics out of his work – which, considering the said work was already an exploit in itself – the man was also very funny. That was a plus. He was definitely an eye candy and…that's all. Isis shook her head.

"Not really, no." She replied. He asked her again if she needed any help but the woman declined. Leslie walked to the living room and collapsed on the sofa before turning the TV on. Leaving her in her thoughts again.

Her last serious relationship had taken place in immemorial times and if the fiasco with Leslie was any help, she was not ready to jump into another one quite yet. _No commitment for me, thanks._ For now, that is. But it did not mean she could not have some fun in meantime. Something that would not turn into a pseudo committed-but-not-really relation like it did with Leslie. Something short and intense. A few days long maybe? Less than a month, that was for sure. Something_ simple_ and enjoyable that she would not have to worry about. And Isis knew exactly who could provide her this.

A woman.

A mischievous smile made it to her face. Women were fun, more than guys. Make it clear the first night and you're alright. No feelings involved and especially discretion. Yes, she could definitely use a one night thing with a girl. It would just relieve whatever pressure she was feeling right now. But first things first, meaning she would have to find her…

Her brain preceded her thoughts and the image of an half naked and grumpy Shizuma storming into the kitchen appeared before her eyes. _What the…!_ The shattering sound of a glass falling in the sink broke her thinking.

"Shit!"

"You alright?" Leslie's voice echoed from the living room.

Isis cursed in her breath again. "Yeah. I just broke a glass." _Damn clumsy, am I not?_

"Careful with that, okay?"

The woman hummed in response while removing the pieces glass with precaution and throwing them in the bin. _What the hell was that?_ Random pictures popping into her mind like that. Especially Shizuma. Of all the people she knew, it had to be her? Come _on_, she was not even her type in the first place! _Wait…my type? Do I have one?_ Good question. The concertmaster certainly did have a certain type of men, but women? She never really thought about it until now. Brows frowned as her mind scrolled the names and faces of the not so many girls she had been intimate with in hopes to find something commonly linking them but found nothing interesting. Except maybe that she had never slept with a she-male…and judging from the funny face Isis was making right now, she was not planning on doing so anytime soon. _So…that would be my type? Feminine girls? Quite vague actually…_ could also be the reason why Shizuma was the first one to pop up into her mind? Plus she was nearby…and it's not like she didn't make it clear that she cou—_Stop!_ Isis shook her head briskly. _Stop, stop, stop! What the bloody hell is wrong with me?_ For a second, the concertmaster had seriously considered the question though…

_She's my boss for God's sake! My boss._ And so? _Three words. Not. With. Colleagues._ The little voice she had been arguing with huffed at this. Wasn't Leslie her colleague too? _Touché… _Then your argument is not valid, you could totally d—_Oh you shut up, okay?_ With that, Isis ended her inner fight and growled at the throbbing headache it created.

* * *

The tension was more than palpable. She could see it on the faces. Oh, of course, they were doing their best to hide it, putting a smile and everything but she knew better. And, to be honest, she was feeling it too, like every other time. The knotted stomach, the racing heart and the last irrational fear trapping her mind…like every other time. And like those previous time, Yaya liked this feeling. The moment of hesitation. It was stressful, true but it was a good stress. Something she needed, like a drug – or like Tsubomi – that would keep her walking and doing what she was doing. Being the best at it.

The woman could hear them. The cries and hysteric yells. _My personal bunch of fangirls, how lucky!_ She knew how Shizuma had felt back in Astrae. Having those rabid girls begging for attention and doing everything in their power to be noticed by the Etoile. An attention the said girl would gladly provide to the pretty ones – only the pretty ones -. But for Yaya it was different. No one deserved as much attention as the one that has been following her for so many years. No one was worthy of her time but her. So, she would give her fans what they wanted. What they expected from her. The singer, the picture on glazed paper. The performer. And she would keep the most important for Tsubomi. _Herself_. The part only she was allowed to see.

Yaya walked down the corridor and heard music upon reaching the door of the practice room. She frowned; the concert was in a couple of hours and she knew Shizuma was not here yet. The singer opened the door quietly and smiled at the sight before her eyes.

Musicians…all the musicians including her band were there. Everybody was seated in the first rows clapping and cheering at the two people on stage. One of them was her guitarist, and the other…well the other was nothing less than Shizuma's concertmaster. They were both playing, or rather battling in a friendly way against each other. Isis would play something, the man would play it back and they would try to follow each other while increasing the difficulty. And this is how a new version of Dies Aries was born before her eyes.

She clapped when they ended the piece, making the audience turn around and acknowledge her presence. "You would have given a heart attack to a classical purist, you know that?" Her statement got laughs and giggles.

"That's the point!" The guitarist nodded. He shook Isis' hand with a broad smile. "Thank you for this piece of awesome."

She smiled back and got off stage, letting another musician trying her hand with the man. Yaya greeted her when she approached. "No splint anymore?"

Isis shook her head. "Recovery is over," she shook her hand slightly to prove her point.

"So, theoretically you can play for the concert?"

She nodded.

"…But you won't, am I wrong?"

She shook her head.

Yaya gave her a confused look. "Why?"

The concertmaster's eyes sparkled. "Are you kidding me? I've been paid while doing nothing for four months, why would I change that?" The singer laughed, she had a point. "Besides," Isis pointed at Leslie. "He's made a lot of progress on his own. This is a great occasion to prove himself to everybody."

The other woman nodded. "You're right. What are you going to do for the concert?"

"Stay backstage and pray that nobody gets a heart attack when you start singing." Considering the average age of their usual public, that was a risk to take in account.

Yaya giggled. "Good luck with that!" She was going to talk again when she spotted Shizuma entering the room with her purse and the bag containing her tuxedo.

The conductor noticed them as well and nodded, receiving a smile from her friend and…nothing from Isis. The concertmaster looked at her as if it was the first time she ever saw her before turning back and melting into the sea of musicians. It made the older woman frown lightly. _What's wrong…?_ She quickly scrolled the events of the last few days in her head, searching if she said or did something wrong to the girl but found nothing interesting and shrugged.

Isis sighed in relief when Shizuma did not come after her and discreetly exited the room. Truth be told, she would have preferred to stay home today. After all, her presence was not mandatory since she was not on stage tonight and she could catch up a few hours of a much needed sleep she had been unjustifiably deprived because of a certain conductor. Her mind has been literally boiling since that little introspection at the beginning of the week. Why in hell was she thinking about her _now _anyway? It's been months since they knew each other, months! The concertmaster was all but blind she had noticed since a long Shizuma was beautiful, it did not get a genius to find out but she had never felt attracted to her, or at least nothing comparable to what she had witnessed before. Then what was wrong? Why was Shizuma invading her head right now?

Feelings?

_Hell no!_

Frustration?

_Maybe..?_ She was going to push the reflection a little further when a throbbing sensation informed her that if she did so, then her head would be seriously suffering. Instead, she just sighed and continued to walk.

"Young lady?" Philip's voice echoed from behind her. She had just walked past his office without noticing. "Why aren't you with the orchestra? Practice is over?"

Isis shook her head, a faint smile on her face. "I just needed to…walk." And think.

The manager nodded, mirroring her smile. A glint made it through his eyes and his lips curved a little bit more. "Then, would you mind if I steal a few minutes of your time? I would like to have _tasteful_ advice on something," he stepped aside. "Please come in."

"Sure," she nodded, spotting the usual stack of papers flooding his desk. "What is it about?"

Philip pointed a set of pictures on his desk. "Those," he said while handing them to the woman. "A friend of mine is writing an article about us for a magazine."

"Which one?" She asked absent mindedly while looking at the pictures, each one was showing the orchestra in different perspective. Apparently, it was taken from their first representation.

"Classica."

Isis whistled in amazement. "Well done!" Then only it hit her. "Wait, it's a French one isn't it?"

Philip nodded. "Intimidation," he answered the unspoken question. "I am pretty certain that _they _are going to read it. Just a way to show that we have our own…weapons if I may say."

The concertmaster laughed. That man was definitely full of surprises, no wonder he was an orchestra manager. He might not show it in front of people but when it came to business Philip was a shark and a tough one. "Good thinking," she gazed at the pictures again and made up her mind. "This one is nice."

He looked at it, his face lighting up. "Thank you, young lady."

"No problem," she waved goodbye and exited his office.

-0-

The room was plunged in the darkness. Only whispers were breaking the ambient quietness. Murmurs discussing about one and only thing. Why on Earth was the Rideau down. _Why?_ Usually, it would be up and members of the orchestra would already be seated and tuning, wouldn't they? Where were they? What had happened to the working organization?

"Hell, we can't do it!" A cellist whined, soon joined by another musician.

"It's crowded over there guys! We can't screw up or we're dead."

"We already are anyway," a third one intervened.

"Oh, are we really?" Yaya interrupted them, a mischievous smile on her face. "And I, who thought we would make a stunning performance. I'm disappointed," she added in a fake pouting tone.

The musicians' hearts melted at this. "N-no, I mean yes! We w-will!" The cellist that spoke earlier talked again.

"Good," her smile vanished and her features turned into a serious expression. "Now calm down and brace yourself. There's some serious business coming up."

They nodded briskly and walked to the stage silently, the huge curtain hiding them.

"Thank you." Shizuma's voice echoed from her left. Yaya noticed she was already dressed. "For encouraging them." It was nice that someone out of their closed circle – meaning her, Philip or anyone that was working with the orchestra on a daily basis – it felt more real.

The singer shook her head. "Don't mention it. It's been great to work with all of you anyway. I'm waiting for your next phone call," she winked.

The conductor laughed. "Let us make it to the end of the night already, we will see for the rest." Though, she had to admit, working with Yaya – a friend – again had been a pleasing experience. More than she expected it to be considering how foreign everything surrounding the younger woman was to Shizuma. She had definitely appreciated the experience. But she was not repeating it anytime soon. "Ready?" She asked a few minutes later.

"You bet! I've always wanted to know how it feels like to be in the pit!" Yaya laughed.

"Dark…and closeted." Shizuma answered with a serious tone. "I hope no one of your musicians is claustrophobic." That would be unfortunate. The woman herself had sometimes felt oppressed in this space. This was one of the reasons she had been avoiding operas the past couple years.

"We shall see," the singer said as she walked to the pit. "We shall see."

At eight o'clock straight, Shizuma was standing on her dais, the heavy curtain still hiding the whole orchestra from the public. They could hear the whispers and a few coughs that added to their nervousness. Just like she had done it the other time, the woman stared at each of them in the eyes and made her best to reassure the musicians, sometimes even mouthing a word or two of comfort. She threw a glance at Leslie who let her know he was ready and waited the signal, pricking her ears up. Yes, because this time, she would not be the one making the music start. Everybody – including Yaya's band – would be starting at the same time at the drummer's third shot. That was the only way they had found to make it work since the conductor was giving her back to the pit, thus not being able to give a the usual signal.

Shizuma tried to control her breathing, her pounding heart was making it difficult to focus and she knew she could not afford to miss the start. It's only at this precise moment that she realized how of a risky decision she had taken. What if they screw up the concert and end up humiliated? Would it be the end of her career? What if the public is too taken aback and decides it doesn't like it? Did she see too big for herself? Too forward for those uptight asses that call themselves professionals to understand? Did she herself understand what she was doing right now? Questions flooded her mind and the conductor felt like she was going to collapse. She shut her eyes. _Take a breath…again…again_, she repeated the process multiple times but it was not helping and her heartbeat was being more and more deafening to the point where even the murmurs of the rooms were drown in it. The woman seriously considered delaying the concert – or just cancel it for that matter – that was until she felt stared at. She opened her eyes seconds later and turned her head to the left, meeting those familiar blue and yellow eyes gazing from the entrance of the backstage. _They are…glowing._ Isis said nothing, only looking at her from afar and oddly enough Shizuma could feel her muscles starting to relax and her breathing slowing down with the pace of her heartbeat. After a last shaky breath, her earing came back. A dark slender brow came up, silently questioning the conductor who nodded back this time.

_I'm alright…_

She heard the first shot from the drummer.

_I'm alright…_

The second one.

_Everything will be alright…_

And the last one.

_Thanks to you._

The curtain came up in a blink of eye as she raised her arms and matched the strings and ragging guitars. Shizuma had heard the startled yelps and other sharp breath intakes from the public but decided not to think about them. She could not be distracted now. They had a concert to focus on, after all. All the tension accumulated from the past months came back in full force but the woman ignored it. The atmosphere in the concert room strangely relaxed once Yaya started to sing…

* * *

"That opening act was _fucking_ awesome! We did it!"

"Mind your language, will you?"

"Why would I? You can't deny it was fucking great!" The guy said again, feeling all giddy.

"What I am saying now, is that if you don't stop embellishing your sentences with 'fucking' I will be forced to shove your trumpet down your throat," a female cellist spoke, making him freeze…literally. "With the mute."

He muttered a 'damn' to himself and send the satisfied woman a death glare. Why was she killing his joy. Their _deserved _happiness? They had done a goddamned performance back there that totally deserved to be embellished with whatever curses he could come with! After the astonishing – for the audience - opening act the musicians had only ten minutes of entr'acte to get ready and come back fresh for the second – expected, this one – part. Playing Beethoven had been like a breath of fresh air washing over them. The pressure they had felt during all those months mostly due to the opening act had completely vanished, letting each of them pour their feelings into the music they were more accustomed to play. It had been a terrible contrast between the strength almost violent of the first part and this slow, increasing sadness that sounded almost like agony.

Yes they deserved to be happy because they had played wonderfully. The question was now whether it had been appreciated for its fair value or not. The answer would be long to come.

In the meantime, everybody stated that it had to be celebrated no matter the outcome of the competition they were doing. The kitty the musicians had filled with their own money a few weeks back served to buy all the food and alcohol needed for a mini party in the living room of the building. Yaya's plane was supposedly going the following day and the singer had actually planned to congratulate the musicians and discreetly disappear with the rest of her team. They did not let her do as she pleased and the woman soon found herself taken in the frenzy of the moment, enjoying this time with her loved one among people she considered as friends now.

Shizuma too, was having fun. Or rather, observing her musicians having fun. She had gone to Philip after the concert, to repeat the little carousel of ego flattering – that was also a part of a conductor's job – but he told her not to bother. This time he would do the job, his oratory skills were needed and she could use the rest.

Amber eyes scanned the room, taking in the broad smiles and already intoxicated bodies dancing awkwardly. Truly, this is how she liked an orchestra. The serious part of course that she has always loved in each and every of those she deigned to lead, and this one; unknown until a few months ago. The careless chats, the silly laughs, even the quarrels sometimes. The long and boring lectures she would calmly give until one of them does something stupid or tell a joke that makes all the orchestra burst in laughter, forgetting everything she had just said. That part Shizuma acknowledged at their contact and that she came to love. The human part of an orchestra, the bond growing between them and getting stronger every day. It was so alien to her at first but now she knew she would not exchange it for anything in the world. It was too precious.

"Good job, maestro," a voice broke the conductor's train of thoughts. A glass of champagne was handed to her. Shizuma politely accepted it and smiled. "You did well on stage." Isis added. "All of you," her gaze shifted to the bunch of people that was still dancing and drinking as a smile crossed her face. It brought some joyful memories back.

"Thank you," the older woman said, wetting her lips in the drink she was given. After a pause she finally dared, "For earlier too," it was whispered, as if she was somehow ashamed.

Another moment of silence passed between the two of them. "I was only doing my job."

For some wild reason unknown to her, that was not the response Shizuma was expecting and her stomach manifested it in an uncomfortable clench. The conductor decided to leave it and made no comment. She frowned when her eyes fell on Isis' drink. "Juice?"

The concertmaster nodded, still looking at the musicians in front of them. "Lightweight. I'm pretty sure everybody wants to keep their eardrums safe so I might as well not try my luck."

The older woman burst in laughter at this. She would have never imagined Isis to be a lightweight. She looked so strong. Or maybe it was only a façade? Strong in the outside and smooth in the inside. Truth be told, Shizuma was more used to the other way around if her past relations were any help. But that woman she was so…like herself it was almost frightening. In a way, it was pushing the conductor to want to know her. She had the strange impression Isis had not always been that way, she just wanted to know. She so wanted to _know_.

_Who are you, dear bewitching violinist? Tell me…will you be my triumph… or my loss…?_

"Yay that's my song guys, my song!" A woman had shouted before increasing the volume. All the musicians started to cheer and sang the lyrics they knew by heart.

"Oh no…" Isis sighed, rubbing her forehead with one hand.

"Don't tell me it's…?" Shizuma turned towards her with a skeptical expression. It was the very first time she wanted to be wrong. For once in her life.

"I'm afraid so." The concertmaster had just the time to finish her sentence before being swung around by a drunken male musician, dancing and leading her to the massing, dancing and singing crowd.

Shizuma laughed at her misfortune until she endured the same fate, another musician awkwardly leading – dragging under her numerous protestations – the woman into the center of the room.

"That's the chorus! The chorus guys come on!"

Voices started to rise like one and only.

"_If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends…  
Make it last forever friendship never ends…  
If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give…  
Taking is too easy, but that's the way it is…" _

Genuine joy and drunken laughter invaded the room. Isis was giggling just like everybody else, trying to follow the beat and failing miserably. Her twinkling eyes found Shizuma's who broadly grinned at her. For a few second, the two women seemed to be out of time as if nothing else was around them. Reality soon took control of the moment and their eye contact broke. However, the conductor made sure to burn this image in her head for as that was one of the happiest times she had lived.

* * *

_I hate the sun._

That was always her first thought in the morning.

_And I hate its rays._

Always followed by this one.

_And its goddamned light!_

And this one.

Now, her blurry mind was idly wondering why in almost ten years of living in this apartment she had never cared to fill up the tiny and vicious holes of the flaps that had made up a conspiracy against her to let the sunlight go through them and directly in her eyes. Yes, she was wondering indeed. Until the woman remembered that a dear someone used to sleep in this bed with her. That lovely person would shelter her against the mean light that was disturbing her sleep and get them instead. That was the old good time.

_An old good time yeah…_she smiled. Long gone since then.

The woman turned around, giving her back to the flaps and sighing in contentment. Now she could get back to her peaceful sleep and that absolutely gorgeous red head waiting for her in dreamland. Oh that would have been sweet if it happened like that, right? Karma decided otherwise and despite her efforts to fall asleep again, the image of the red head was slowly vanishing.

She opened her revolver killer green eyes five seconds later_. Karma you bitch_.

And this is how Chloé always started her morning.

After a rough negotiation between her brain and her reticent-to-move limbs, her body finally shifted to the border of the bed before she stood up and stretched with a lazy yawn. Ruffling her sand colored hair, the woman dragged herself to the kitchen in order to make the sacred and holy coffee French – and especially Parisians – could not live without. She pushed the button, eyelids still firmly closed and while the coffee was kindly making itself and smelling nice, she opened the cupboard and was greeted by a lonely pack of cookies.

_Grocery…_ the woman growled.

"Kawasaki! Remember to bring food when we come back!" A grunt answered her from a nearby closed door.

Chloé took the cookies, the much needed cup of coffee, opened a magazine and sat on a chair, using her bare knee to support her chin while she read and ate. The woman turned the pages nonchalantly and stopped when an article caught her attention. She smirked at the sight of the portrait on the paper. Her only rival. Someone she secretly admired. But not for their talent, no. For their amazing hunting table that was definitely reaching and even outrunning her own. Of course, those were only rumors spreading in the profession. But she knew it was the truth. Chloé could see it in those frozen amber eyes. The way they were sparkling. She had it, that woman was just like her. Or even worse. Make that certain, she was worse.

She continued to read without really registering what was written. Another laudatory paper praising the juvenile lead that graduated from one of the best music school who gained her spurs with a workaholic behavior and undeniable genius that she was now sharing with a young orchestra which was doing pretty well so far. _So much fuss…_Chloé huffed. _Mine is better!_ She wanted to yell like a little girl trying to prove her point. _Mine is fucking better! _The woman took another bite of cookie and a huge sip of coffee while observing the different pictures accompanying the article when suddenly…

"Holy mother of a biscuit!" Chloé spurt all the content of her mouth on the table and magazine. "What the…" she ran to the closed door that had grunted earlier and literally slapped it. "Kawasaki, open the door!" Chloé knocked loudly again. Muffled sounds answered her. Sounds that were usually meant to be heard between lovers. This time it's her fist that met the door. "KAWASAKI!"

A thud, something sounding like an apology or a curse and a few seconds later the door was open, revealing a light brown haired man looking like a kid that had just been taken the hand in the cookie jar. He was topless, his pants threatening to fall off his hips.

"I-I…it's not what you think," he spoke with a shaking voice. "I mean, I'm n-not …I'm a guy, okay?"

She gave him the blankest look ever and he sighed, almost running to the exit door while putting his shirt, under her gaze.

"It's Kowalski, shithead." Another male voice came from the bedroom. Broad shoulders, well defined muscles and sparkling honey colored eyes appeared on the threshold.

"Same." Chloé turned to him and pointed the exit door. "Isn't like the fourth time he comes here?"

"Fifth." Kowalski corrected with a loud yawn while leaning on the threshold.

"And he's still convinced he's not…?" She waved her hands.

"Well if_ you_," he pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Did not interrupt, I'm sure he'd have gladly accepted the truth. After another two rounds."

"I would say I'm sorry. But…that would be lying actually," the blonde woman ended with a smirk.

He gently poked her shoulder. "So, what did you want me for?"

"Oh!" Chloé opened the magazine, skipping to the right page. A spot of coffee mixed with cookies was horning a side of it and Kowalski grimaced at the sight.

"Abstract art?"

"Shut up. Look at the article," she pointed the columns and the pictures accompanying them.

He grabbed the magazine and narrowed his eyes upon reading. "Yeah, and so?" The man said after a while. "It's about that Hanzo-something and her so-British orchestra? Honestly, I don't understand why they are making such a thing about he—hey!" He scratched his head where the woman had just hit him.

"It's _Hanazono_, dickhead. Learn your classics that woman is a goddamned _goddess_ of music." And her official rival in more leisurely levels.

Kowalski looked bewildered. "You don't know this woman and yet you remember her name? Seriously, what's wrong with you?" Then it hit him. "Oh yeah, XX chromosomes only."

Chloé smiled at him and ruffled his messy brown hair, only to get it messier. "Good boy! He understands fast." After receiving a glare, she spoke again. "Look at this picture," she pointed

The man did as told, eyes wandering aimlessly on the glazed paper. "_Ohhh_…that blonde guy in the first row is a real cuti—holy shit!"

The woman smirked. "Got the same reaction."

He looked up completely dumbfounded. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. It's…"

"Yes," she answered before he could finish. "Yes it is. No one is crazy enough to play in reverse."

"No one but her," Kowalski completed quietly.

It brought a smile to their faces. A fond smile. The joy of finding a long lost friend again, a sister to them. The missing piece to their puzzle. Head, body and soul. The infernal trio. Futureless young brats that they once were. She was back. Back in their world, back in their life. Back in business. Back to _herself_. They both looked at her face on the picture. Eyes focusing on the music sheet positioned before her and fingers performing a flawless _entre-crochet_. Making it seem like it was the most natural thing in the world, just like she always did. It was beautiful. _She _was beautiful.

"We have a concurrence with them," Chloé informed.

He nodded, still staring at the picture. "This is going to be tough." Especially since _she_ was in the equation now.

"I know," she smirked.

Something was threateningly shadowing their upcoming encounter though and they both knew it. It was Kowalski that finally dared to ask. "Do you think we should tell him?"

The woman looked at him for a while before drifting to the picture again. "She looks happy…" she uttered almost to herself. "Let her be. He will know it one day or another anyway, but I'm not telling anything. Screw him."

He smirked. "Neither do I."

They gazed at the picture one last time.

_Welcome back. We missed you…_

-0-

At the same time, far away from Paris, Isis was walking to the beauty salon to take her shift after her lunch break when she suddenly sneezed. Twice.

* * *

**Yes yes, Yaya as a singer is a little cliché but hey! Plus I loved to write her she's fun. **

**I know I've introduced another bunch of OC's…sorry -_-. And the next chapter will have its lots of them too.**

**A precision; when Chloé talk about "playing in reverse" it's because the violin is – 99% of times – played in one and only way, the left hand on the fingerboard and the right one holding the bow, supposedly easier for the left handed then. It's only for practical and esthetical reasons: having the bows moving in the same way – and at the same time – parallel to each other is just prettier to see. **

**In case you have not noticed since now, Isis (while being left handed) doesn't play violin "the right way" so she's got a reversed instrument. While it is very difficult – not to say impossible – for musicians playing with a reversed violin/viola/cello etc… to be hired in an orchestra (for the reasons quoted above) there are rare exceptions to this absolutely useless rule. To give you an example of useless stuff going on in orchestras, until 1997 women were not allowed to be part of Vienna's orchestra for no apparent reason except their uterus. Nowadays, mentalities are slowly changing about reversed violinists, but this process is just so damn slow.**

**Ain't no Mountain High Enough is sang by Marvin Gaye. Shame on you if you don't know this song it's absolutely awesome.**

**As for the last one…90's ftw! Come on I know all of you have at least hummed that song if not, you've just missed your life.**

**A ménage-à-trois is a threesome. Your faithful servant had the wonderful idea back in high school to ask to her English teacher why did English people use the French expression, he gave me a sidelong stare and told me that Kings of France and their court were quite reputed and famously known for this practice. Oh, did you know homosexuality used to be called the Italian vice back then? Random, facts are random.**

**While you wait for the next chapter, I let you in company for this boys band of chicks that totally deserves a MTV award. Bieber, you have serious concurrence coming.**

**http:/ video. google. com/ videoplay?docid=6359321620942324685 (remove the spaces)**

**A bunch of thanks to Wicked White Queen who used her super powers to beta this chapter as quickly as she could. Blackmail her for her updates.**

**Oh, and another side note if someone from the Federal Bureau of Investigation is reading me now. Thank you very much for closing MegaUpload and preventing me to watch the sixth season of Dexter, that was cool guys. Thank you again for thinking that you need to police the whole world, imposing **_**your**_** laws on everybody else (and close a site based in Hong-Kong) only because you are American. Reagan is not president anymore Bin Laden is dead so mind your own business, please. **

**If you really want to do something useful drop a bomb on Bashar el-Assad, he's been killing his people for almost a year now so be a hero, be American and save all of them. Oh! But wait…no you can't! The country's got no oil. Man, that'd be a waste of some precious money here, right? Right.**

**And when your politicians and economy experts find a sustainable way to get us out of this big shit crisis they put the whole world into with your subprime please manifest yourself. But for now, blow me. **

**Sincerely.**

**An upset Internet user.**


	6. Chapter 6

**What's up with the fics involving women with male attributes? Like, you're writing a story involving two **_**women, **_**alright? Why make one of them get a magic penis out of the blue? Stop butchering gay characters. Write some hetero/yaoi fic if you're so keen on the dangling thingie, but **_**don't**_** give a real cock to an openly lesbian character. Your clichéd and stereotypical views over the matter aren't needed.**

**Ehm, sorry. Needed to rant.**

**Thank you to the awesome reviewers, you're really great guys and your kind words push me to write and update faster (proved fact!) Also thank you to you, shy and silent readers because I know there's a bunch of you here! It's amazing that you all take the time to appreciate this story, so once again, thanks!**

**FF. has made a lot of changes lately. New layout, possibility to add cover to your stories… now you'll even be able to look for stories based on the number of reviews/favs. It's awful for the ones which don't get tremendous comments and will be tossed away. Basically it has become a popularity contest. Love 'em, really. Leave the site alone for almost 12 years and decide to turn everything upside down in 3 months.**

**Traviata: from now on, the number of foreign words will be reduced to a minimum. There will be a few of them still because it is needed and the glossary will be placed at the beginning of the chapter instead of the bottom so you know what they mean.**

**I don't own Strawberry Panic. Plot and OC's are mine, however.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Legato**

**By Hazel Liebovsky**

* * *

Chapitre six (première partie)

Wasn't it Byron who once said that the English Winter ends in July to recommence in August? Well, at this precise moment, millions of British were sharing his point of view. Especially a certain conductor who had had the idea – which she was bitterly regretting right now – to knightly defy the weather in order to grab her daily dose of caffeine and chocolate out of her warm and welcoming workplace. The cup carefully pressed to her chest and a chocolate bar in the other hand, Shizuma was briskly walking back to the imposing building when her phone decided it was the right time to buzz and sing. _Bad timing! _The woman growled, fumbling with her hands and their contents until she finally found a way to hold them in one, grab the ringing phone with the other and bring it to her ear without checking the ID.

"Yes?" It came a little harsher than intended. Blame the cold.

"_Uh-oh…am I interrupting something?"_

Shizuma mentally scolded herself for her manners before smiling, even if she could not be seen by her interlocutor right now. "No, no. I'm sorry, Lucy. How are you doing?"

She could hear a chuckle at the other end of the line. _"Fine. No superficial talks Shizuma. I just called to inform you that your request has been fulfilled."_

See? That's what the conductor always liked in her agent. She was never beating over the bush and her typically American straightforwardness was always appreciated. The woman wanted to do something? Fine, Lucy would find a way to make it happen. Any possible way. But she was also a great counselor. After all, she was the one dealing with Shizuma's public image. Managing her agenda when she was still a guest conductor, accepting – or refusing – demands of interviews. A great manager that would not mash her words when it came to telling the truth about things bothering her. This included discussing the conductor's artistic choices, which happened when Shizuma was much younger and inexperienced, things must be said. And just for this, the woman would never exchange her for no one else. As Lucy had told her once _'I was in this business that you were still sticking chewing-gum in your hair,' _her wise advices were always welcomed.

The conductor shivered while pushing the heavy front door with one hand, the phone stuck between her shoulder and ear. "Already?" That was indeed a very pleasant surprise. Another proof of her agent's efficiency.

The voice hummed. _"Yes. And you even get to choose_!" Shizuma could feel the grin spreading Lucy's face right now. _"Because I'm just that great, come on you can admit it,"_ she added teasingly.

"Have I ever doubted your words, Milady?"

"_Oh no, this won't work Shizuma. Keep your British charms for someone else will you?"_

She laughed. Another reason why she liked her manager was also because she was definitely too old to be fooled. Thus, no temptation involved in their relationship, just nice pleasantries. "So, which ones?" Shizuma was back to business.

"_Bastille or the Palais Garnier." _Lucy pronounced carefully, trying not to butcher the foreign names too much.

_Mhm…_the conductor paused for a few seconds. "Garnier, definitely." It was older. Had more presence. Perfect for a come-back. "Do you have any dates?"

"_Hold on…"_ the sound of ruffled paper could be heard before the voice picked the phone up again. _"Fifth of September. Is that alright?" _

_Fifth of September…_that would be in a little less than two months. If everything goes well, that is. "Should be fine with me."

Shizuma answered, deliberately pushing away a little detail that had its importance nevertheless. The conversation with her agent did not last more than five minutes after this agreement and they hung up. She entered the workroom and carelessly put the half cold cup of coffee on the table. A tired sigh came out of her mouth. Foreshadowing what was awaiting her. Yes, because obtaining a concert room to play had been the easy part of her plan actually.

Now she just had to convince Isis to perform a concerto with her. In Paris.

* * *

"No."

That's what she said. What she had been rambling for the past twenty minutes. Giving more or less believable explanations as for why she was refusing the offer. Though, Isis forgot about something. Something important called stubbornness. One that was definitely outrunning her own. Especially when it came from a newly turned eight year-old little brat like her daughter's neighbor.

"But why?" Oh, this question was a challenge in disguise. It demanded experience and carefully hand-picked words.

"Because I am working," she answered simply, not bothering anymore. "And I'm sure your parents would like you to be with them this summer," the concertmaster added as a matter of fact before any protestation could be voiced.

"But Ireland is _so_ boring! I don't want to go there!" The kid insisted. "Staying with you is way more fun! And I swore to Mom you will give me summer homework!"

"I will?"

An awkward silence filled the room at Isis' question, quickly furnished by embarrassed coughs. "I… guess?"

The woman stopped on what she was doing – meaning slicing tomatoes – and stared at the big blue pools in front of her. A long pause followed until she flashed her a bright smile, making the girl's eyes shine in hope. "Say hello to the sheep for me," and then resumed in her task.

"Not fun," the brat pouted, playing with a fork until she spotted the cat coming out of Isis' bedroom, stretching his legs while lazily trotting towards them. She jumped off the stool and caught him before the poor animal had the time to register what was happening.

The concertmaster looked at the scene, a fond smile making its way on her face, slowly but surely. An uncomfortable twitch manifested itself in his stomach, making the grin flatter a little bit. She knew where it was coming from. A feeling of want. A feeling of lacking something. _I… miss them._ Of course she did. It was after all, the fifth year she was going without seeing her family. They phoned. Talked for long periods. But her mother had long given up on the idea of convincing her to come back. Not that Isis didn't want to, she just could not. How many times did she book a flight and bought the ticket only to find herself frozen at the airport, unable to move. The woman smiled bitterly. She did well at comforting Nagisa, telling her to get over it and never give up but applying this very same advice to herself was another story. They were all suffering because of her. _I… have to do something about it. Soon_.

"You won't go on holidays?"

The girl's voice drew Isis out of her dozing. "No, I don't think so." She had to work.

Well… she did not _have_ to per se. It was just a distraction, to keep herself busy so she would not have to think about subjects that mattered. Like when exactly was she planning on visiting her family – granted they still recognize her after five years now – even for a few days just to say hi. Usually she would spend her assigned week of holiday with Leslie somewhere, out of town. But commandeer the guy was surely not a good idea since he had a girlfriend now. A _real _girlfriend, someone simple, remember?

Isis growled at herself, frustrated with her own thoughts. What to do now? After a few minutes of thinking, she decided on going out for practice. Nobody would be there to disturb her and the woman would finally be able to clear her mind. Plus she had her own set of keys now, so no more sneaking. She continued to prepare lunch and entertain the brat until her parents came to pick her up. The kid tried one last parley but failed miserably and embellished her goodbyes with puppy eyes. The concertmaster did not waste a minute when they exited her apartment, taking her violin and closing the door behind her.

-0-

"Why am I not surprised to find you here," a voice broke Shizuma's focus. "Tell me for real; don't you have a home or something?"

A smile tug at her lips as she turned around and left the music sheets. "I was considering making this my place," it was an understatement looking at how much time she spent here. "What do you think?"

"Couches are comfortable." Isis pointed at the sofas with her chin, a huge grin on her face. "You should totally do it."

The conductor chuckled. "I will keep it in mind," and returned to her reading before one of the sheets was anarchically snatched off her field of view.

The younger woman sat on the table unceremoniously. "What is this?"

"Chopin's ballad." Isis gave her a sly look. "You asked me, dear."

She bit her tongue not to make a sharp comment. "Sorry let me rephrase it: why are you looking at those?"

Shizuma smiled. "I am making a selection." _Maybe now is the right time to ask her…_ it's been days since she received that phone call, and she has been struggling with herself on how to ask Isis since then. "Do you remember when you told me I wasn't playing anymore?"

The concertmaster looked confused at the sudden change of topic. "Yeah, I guess."

She leaned on her seat, eyeing the other on the table contemplatively. "I think it is time to make a grand come back," she smirked.

Isis' face lit up at those words. "Seriously?" She received a nod and a huge smile broke her face. "That's great!" And she really meant it. Maybe… maybe she could see her performance? "Are you going to do it here?"

"Paris," she shook her head. "But that's not all," the woman said, taking a breath in apprehension. "I was also thinking about having a guest musician with me," she pointed at a partition on the table.

The concertmaster looked at it. Piano and violin concertos, that was. "Even better!" she replied cheerfully, completely oblivious to the situation. "Make it someone famous, okay?"

_Here we go…_ "Actually, I already had an idea of who I wanted for this…" Shizuma straightened on her seat, seeing as Isis leaned forward, expectantly. _Dear Lord, please protect me._ "I thought," she started, her voice getting lower. "That maybe…" her eyes looking downcast too. "Maybe you would?"

A heavy silence fell on the room at those words.

Isis looked at her with a confused expression on her features until she burst in laughter. After a few seconds and seeing as Shizuma's face hadn't budged a bit, her giggles fell flat. "Wait, that wasn't a joke?"

The conductor shook her head.

"You're actually serious about it?"

She nodded, waiting patiently for the concertmaster to register the information. The younger woman's face darkened considerably and she looked down at her hands for a few seconds, playing with her fingers.

"No way," she moved off the table, much to Shizuma's displeasure who gazed at her dumbly.

"W-what? Why?"

A loud sigh came out of her mouth as she numbered the reasons of her refusal in her head. "Firstly, in case you do not remember, I've suffered a fracture of multiple bones," she said quoting the exact same words the conductor used a few months ago. "Therefor, playing remains difficult."

"Nonsense," the older woman had risen from her seat and was walking to her right now. "Absolute nonsense."

"Secondly, I am a concertmaster, get it? Not a guest musician. If the orchestra needs me to do a solo I will do it. _This…_ is not for the orchestra ," she looked up at Shizuma. "This is only for your selfish being. What do you need me for? What do you want from me that you can't get from anyone else, seriously?"

The discussion was starting to slip into a path the conductor would have preferred to avoid. It seemed Isis was reading right through her, but at the same time she was fighting with her own self. Shizuma had never seen her this… stern and lost. She knew the young woman was trying to find anything to anger her, this was her way of dealing with people when they were scratching the surface a little too deeply for her liking. If they were angered, then people wouldn't seek answers, they would not go further. Shizuma breathed, this was going to be tough.

"You are making excuses again," she took a step forward slowly. "Just like the first time. I told you I don't want anything from you, Isis." _Not like that, at least… Not anymore…_ her own thoughts surprised her but she went on nevertheless. "I wanted you to play, I _want_ you to play. Not for me this time, but with me. Because I believe that you deserve it, I believe that people deserve to know you out of this," her hands opened wide to show the room. "Out of _my _direction, for your full musician self."

"Is this where I am supposed to tear up?" The concertmaster snapped back, not convinced by this so philanthropic and selfless decision. "I said no, okay?"

Shizuma's face darkened. She was boiling inside. This woman had the wonderful ability to make her fly off the handle. "I will not give up," she replied lowly.

"I don't care." Isis replied as she made her way out of the room, her knuckles whitened by anger.

The door slammed behind her and the conductor closed her eyes. Well… this was not as hard as she thought it would be. Only the first round, though. Because she knew she had just declared an open war to Isis right now. A war of nerves and guts for as she did not know who would be the one to give up first. Stubbornness would be their weapon.

* * *

Miyuki was a woman of manners. Indeed, she had been taught the worldliness of the high elitist places since childhood and, knowing her mother she was pretty sure that old woman was reading her Kant while she was still growing in her belly. She had been taught how to act in society and hide her evident wit and smartness behind those smug smiles that had no secrets for her anymore. She knew a lot of things thanks to the education provided by the preceptors before going to Miatre in middle school. And even when she got there, she was taught how to be a fine lady of the world, how to satisfy her future husband with nice conversation and a good meal.

But there's something she had never been taught, there was something no one ever told her about. Something the young woman did not know how to deal with for as she had received no lessons, no lectures and no exam about.

Something named nausea.

Head leaned on the toilet seat in an unladylike manner, the poor woman was spitting her guts as well as the excuse of breakfast she had earlier this morning. When her belly finally decided to stop torture her, the woman leaned her back on the nearest wall and closed her eyes. She took long, slow breaths in a vain attempt to steady herself and stop the revolution going on in her body right now. Why did it hate her so much anyway? What had she done to the poor thing for it to be seeking such a vicious revenge from her? They said it's miracle of life.

Miracle?

Miyuki would gladly tear the eyes out of the fool who used such a word to describe what was in fact a World War of hormones.

When she was sure her body came to a fair truce – that would last more than two hours at least – she flushed the toilet and got on her feet, ignoring the slightly dizzy feeling her standing position brought her. Splashing cold water on a burning face did help a bit and she quickly fixed herself before joining Shizuma at their table.

She wanted to announce her this big news. Miyuki was not someone to give into her emotions so easily – hormones had not messed up her character to that point yet, actually – but there was something about her whole self. She was glowing, literally. The woman looked brighter and definitely excited. Even more beautiful would some say. Yes indeed; a change that Shizuma would have noticed if she was not in her own bubble right now, rehashing the events of last week with Isis that had her being so very annoyed – more than she would ever admit to anyone – and completely oblivious to her best friend's state at the moment. Selfish you say? Oh, yes very much.

Miyuki sat in front of her, carefully disposing the napkin on her crossed legs. An umpteenth sigh welcomed her and she looked at Shizuma who was dangerously glaring at her empty plate now, as if engaged in a fierce argument with it.

_I'm going to regret this, but…_ "What's the matter? You've been growling and sighing like a little girl all lunch."

"She doesn't listen to me!" The conductor blurted out loudly, efficiently startling the other and making a few heads turn in their direction. "I asked her to do one thing,_ one_ little tiny thing for me and guess what she said?"

Her friend looked surprised at this sudden burst. She had rarely ever seen Shizuma being this irritated by something, or someone. This was totally new. Taking a wild guess, Miyuki opened her mouth to answer, "No?"

"Exactly! No," she went on, fists forming on the table. "Why not? Why wouldn't she do it, tell me?"

Miyuki had no clue what was being discussed right now, what was that thing her friend asked to that 'she' that she assumed was Nagisa until the other woman spoke again and confused her even more.

"She said it wasn't for her. That I was doing it for _me_," both of her hands pointed at her chest, underlining the statement. "That I was being selfish for proposing her to come with me."

Headache. This _almost_ sounded like a lovers quarrel to Miyuki. Almost. Moreover, the Nagisa option was exited since she knew the red head would never address to Shizuma in such truthful and franc words. "Wait," a hand started to rub at her temples to prevent the growing pain. "Who are you talking about?"

"Isis!" she growled the name as if it was obvious. "Have you been listening?"

Miyuki shot her a death glare at this._ Isis…?_ "Who… who is she?" the woman looked genuinely confused. Obviously it did not sound like she was one of her friend's numerous night conquests. Otherwise she would not have so much effect on her moods right now. A colleague probably. One who was not letting the conductor have it her own way as she used to do. It made her smile.

"My concertmaster," she answered, visibly calmed down and took a sip of her wine. "I am doing a small concert in Paris and I asked her to be my guest musician but she refused."

_Oh, so that is it._ The spoiled prodigy was not having what she wanted. Usually, and given her reputation in the profession, people would beg to have collaboration with her that would bring their career to its highest, _beg_. And here she was, this mysterious musician who would just slam the door at her face and simply _decline_ her offer. As easy as that when a hundred violinists would have trampled on each other mercilessly to be able to play with her. Isis did not give a damn about it. About what Shizuma represented in this universe. She respected her to be an artist, a very talented one. And even on a more human level she would _maybe_ call her a friend but that was it. Reputation, fame, influence, all of this was meaningless for the concertmaster. If she didn't want to do it, she would not do it, period.

The conductor was bitterly regretting it right now. Regretting to have let her get inside her . Isis' decision should not be affecting her like this. She said no, fine Shizuma would find someone else. That's what she has always done anyway. Find someone else. Kaori is dead? Find someone else. Nagisa is starting to get boring? Not a big deal, find someone else. Miyuki was the only constant being in her life, so far. Then why was it so hard to _find someone else_ when it came to Isis?

"Maybe…" the other woman's voice drew Shizuma out of her thoughts. "Maybe you should respect her decision? Leave it be?"

She shook her head. "I can't," she admitted to her as much as she was admitting it to herself. "I really wanted her to go with me," for her it was like, giving a present or making a surprise for someone she cared about. Just a nice trip and a good representation. To be honest, Shizuma could care less about who was coming to the concert. She just wanted Isis to be happy.

_Isis to be happy…_

Miyuki was talking again but she wasn't hearing her anymore. Only one thought was stuck in her head.

_Isis to be happy… _

Since when did she care about one's happiness like this?

_Isis to be happy…_

"…anted to tell you something," Miyuki's words rang at her ears. Amber eyes widened suddenly. "I might be pre—"

"Miyuki you are a genius!" Shizuma cut her as she rose from her seat, taking her purse along the way. "I need to go," she kissed her cheek hastily. "I love you. You're a genius." And with that she was gone.

Her friend could only watch with disarray as the silver blur that was Shizuma's hair went out of the restaurant and directly to her car.

"…gnant," she finished her sentence quietly.

-0-

It was busy today. Terribly busy. She did not really know why the spa was so crowded today, but for sure it was bothering Isis a_ little_ bit… right, no actually it was bothering her more than a little. All those women deciding at the very same time that they needed a massage, a Brazilian epilation, a manicure – French or not – or a metro ticket. Whatever. The thing is, they were all _here_, meaning Isis had barely had the time to go out quickly to buy a sandwich. Said sandwich that she was now eating while trying to relax with a book.

_Ten minutes, that's all I ask for… only ten minu—_ An employee's entrance broke her thoughts.

"A customer is asking for you."

She sighed. _Ten minutes, damn it!_ "It's my break right now. Ask someone else," she took another bite of her sandwich and continued to read her book. The other girl though, had not moved from her spot at all and kept gazing at her until Isis could not take it anymore and turned to her. "What?"

"She asked _especially _for you."

The woman rose from the chair with a sigh, taking one last bite of her sandwich before reluctantly throwing it in the bin. Mrs Peterson. She was sure it was Mrs Peterson. She could smell it, that old peacock and her goddamned perfume that stings Isis' nose when she enters the room. Channel smells old for God's sake, why could nobody tell her, uh? She was the only customer who would come and ask for her at lunch time. Every. Damn. Time. Oh, one day. The very last day, Isis would give her a piece of her mind. Definitely.

Holding her breath and putting on the usual fake commercial smile, she opened the door. "Hello, Miss Peters—" her sentence broke here and she glared at the woman lazily sprawled on the table. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Shizuma gave her a lopsided grin, a hand supporting her chin. "Hello to you too." Isis kept sending her dagger eyes and her smile widened. "I came for a massage, of course."

_Yeah, sure and my ass is made of chicken… _the woman sighed. "_Of course_," she repeated sarcastically. "Choose someone else, okay? I was on my break," with that, she turned around to exit the room.

The conductor shifted her position and quickly grabbed Isis' other arm, being careful to wrap the sheet around her so it wouldn't fall. "I chose _you_," she said solemnly.

"And where do you think you are, exactly?" Isis freed herself, eyes glowering at her. "A whorehouse? I can refuse to take care of you if I want, get it?"

She was expecting a shot back. Or a glare, a sharp reply, something that would furnish the fire of this argument they were having. Something that would reaffirm the conductor's supremacy on every other being. But surely, the woman did not expect Shizuma to submissively nod and not argue back.

"I know," she replied quietly. _I know now… _knew that the concertmaster did not give a damn about what _she_ wanted. That she could see clearly see through her, even if it would take time for the other to get used to it. "I just wanted a massage, really."

Isis was taken aback by the sudden change and she glanced at her skeptically. "Are you drunk?"

"Nope!" Shizuma smirked like a kid. "Only half a glass. No good meals without a good wine," she added like a mantra.

The woman shook her head, fighting the smile that wanted to come out. Her dimple gave it away though. After a minute of silence, she finally made up her mind. "Alright. Lie down."

Shizuma conceded to her, settling comfortably on the table. "I've heard about that special massage you prov—"

"No way." Isis cut her, knowing full well what type of massage she was talking about.

"Why?" The other whined. She was the customer, right? What do they say, the customer is king? Meaning she get to choose, yes?

"I will tell you why," the concertmaster said as she replaced Shizuma's head on the table quite unceremoniously under the growls of the other. "Doing this massage on you would be like trying to put out a fire. With _oil_."

A devious grin spread Shizuma's lips at those words, even if the other couldn't see it. So this thing actually worked? "You are basically implying that I am not capable of controlling myself?"

"Exactly."

"That's rude of you."

"Not rude no. Truthful." Isis corrected, smiling when she heard a scoff.

Her hand ran on Shizuma's hair – on a whim – delicately swinging it out of the way so she would have a full view of her bare back. Said back that was as white as the rest of her being. Her fingertip traced the silhouette of it slowly and she felt the muscles tense beneath that smooth skin. Shizuma was spoiled by genetics, that was for sure and Isis knew that a bunch of people, men and women equally would kill to be able to be at her place right at this moment. That thought struck her as she ran her fingers on the conductor's back again, frankly touching this time while lightly pouring oil on it.

"Are you sure you can't—"

"Yes, I am." Isis cut her again. "Now shut up, I can't focus."

Shizuma frowned. "You need to focus for… for… _ooh… God_…" she melted. Magic fingers were at work now. They had found a particularly knotted area and were doing their trick on it, efficiently shutting the woman's mouth.

Isis smirked victoriously. Playing her thumbs and palms on her back with expert movements. Like music. Find the right note, the right interpretation and extrapolate it. That's why she needed silence to focus, to analyze one's body language. Some customers were loud enough or liked to tell her what to do and where to do it. But most of them did not speak. They expected her to know exactly what they needed. A long drown breath? She had found the right spot. A flinch? Go smoothly on this one. The customer was shifting? Just a little upward. It was a conversation between her and a body. Isis was here to relieve it, and with years of practice it had no secret for her anymore.

Another smile appeared on her face when the woman heard what she wanted. Soft breaths. Shizuma was dozing off and her body was completely relaxed, like a jelly. A few minutes more and she would be asleep. _She's fast_, the concertmaster noted. It had only been fifteen minutes. Or maybe she was just tired? Her back was telling enough of it, looking at how tense it was when Isis first started. Her motions slowed little by little until she made sure the conductor was asleep and she stopped.

Now she had her ten minutes break. Isis walked discreetly to the door. Ann spotted her going out of the room. "You're done?"

She shook her head. "Asleep."

The employee burst in laughter. "That's my girl!" Nodding proudly at her. She knew how her friend would time on time perform this_ other _massage which, instead of turning customers into a thirsty succubus, would make them fall into a peaceful slumber for five to ten minutes. And they would wake up smoothly under her hands like they just had a full night of sleep. Little did they know that she often used this time to take care of someone else or just relax.

And this is exactly what she had in mind right now. Isis walked to the rest room and reached for her casher. Snack time was long to come but since she had thrown her sandwich, Isis decided not to follow her usual routine and ravish that chocolate bar now and then rather than wait.

"You tricked me," a voice stated on her back, startling and creeping her out.

_How did she…_ usually, it would take a little more to someone to wake up. Isis turned around, greeted by the sight of a sheet wrapped Shizuma, leaning on the door. "Me?" She asked in a fake wounded tone. "Never!" Slowly opening the bar, she cut a piece and gulped it under the gaze of the other. "I'm not proposing you, I'm hungry."

Shizuma remained silent, examining Isis with a hawk stare that was beginning to bother the woman greatly. "What are you afraid of?" The conductor asked out of the blue.

She continued to chew on her food, a confused expression settling on her face. "What?"

"You heard me," she said. "You are afraid of something," her eyebrows furrowed. "What is it?"

Isis swallowed her food. "I… don't know what you're talking about. Mind to elaborate?"

"Paris."

It was imperceptible for a stranger's eyes but Shizuma caught it. This light flinch. The way those blue yellow eyes widened just a little bit and looked away for a second. When she first asked, she was too busy congratulating herself to mind and observe the concertmaster's reaction closely to notice those signs. Fear. Of something, someone most probably. A fear that was consuming her for so many years that it had become a part of her. Even preventing the woman to see those she cared about. It had lasted too long, she could not agree more with this… but it was so hard. And here she was, that nymph appearing in her life like a magic trick. Poof. Someone she could not help but notice. Someone she knew would bring her troubles someday. That would probably turn the life she had patiently built for almost six years upside down. Someone who would force her to unlock this dusty place called heart and look closely at it for once in a while. Set new priorities and forget those ghosts haunting her past.

Or at least _try_.

Isis remained silent, staring at her with a compelling glare and taking another piece of her food. "So what?" She sighed. "Still haven't gotten over it? I am _not _coming, I told yo—"

"This is not what I asked," the conductor interfered, eyes locked with hers, taking small steps forward on the cold floor. "What are you afraid of?" _What is it that scares you so much… please, tell me… I want to…_

The young woman did not flinch, noticing the other was approaching her slowly. She straightened up and weighed her. She was starting to lose her patience, seriously. What did she want? Why couldn't she just leave it alone? Leave _her_ alone for once? Stop asking questions when she had no answers, no answers worth giving. Stop being her exasperating self all the time and mind her own business. Yeah, that's it. That was exactly what Isis was going to retort to her right now. Maybe _this_ would make her go, at least. She opened her mouth, ready to spit those bitter words when Shizuma preceded her.

"I want you to be happy," she had blurted, surprising the concertmaster for the second time this afternoon. _I want to help you, let me…_

Isis face slowly turned red, much to Shizuma's amazement. What she did not expect though, was the pale shade it took afterwards and how it contorted in pain soon after as she coughed violently. A piece chocolate bar had chosen this precise moment to obstruct her throat and stifle the poor girl. She ran to the nearest sink to try and dislodge the murder weapon. After two minutes of rough coughing, the concertmaster's head turned around, glaring dangerously at Shizuma through her blurry eyes.

"What the hell is wrong with you? There are other ways to kill someone, you know?! Peaceful ones!" She spat another crumb, still coughing heavily.

Shizuma walked to her, a hand smoothing the woman's back who was trying to get a semblance of composure back. "I—I'm sorry," she said lowly, a worried look on her face. "Are you alright?"

Isis straightened from the sink, turning to face her. "Do I look like it?" A finger pointing at her reddened and moist face emphasized her rhetorical question. She opened the valve, letting water pour into the sink, making the vestige of what was once her snack disappear.

"I… I didn't mean to…" the concertmaster raised a hand, summoning for her not to talk and worsen her case. Shizuma compelled wordlessly, gazing at her bare feet.

After two minutes of complete silence, only disturbed by the occasional coughs of the young woman, the conductor finally dared to look up only to be met with blue yellowish eyes staring hard back at hers. She swallowed the lump in her throat with difficulty.

"It did not turn out as I originally planned…" she gave a weak smile to the stoic face. Vain attempt at humor, vain.

"It's the least we can say," arms crossed below her chest, Isis kept still.

She was being scolded. She hated being scolded. No one had ever scolded her since high school and even back then, it was only Miyuki who was giving her those endless lectures about her duty as Etoile. The only one besides her mother – the rare times she had cared enough to intervene in her education – who was _capable of_ questioning her doings and arguing them. And here she was now, feeling like a little girl again, under the gaze of this woman. What felt worse is that she was not even voicing anything! How could she just reprimand her _silently_?

_Witch… _the conductor thought. After a rough negotiation with her inner self, she decided to speak. Honestly this time. "I…" her mouth closed; opened and then closed again. _Come on! _ "I'm…." the words were stuck. She frowned, looking down. Why couldn't she just say it? Was it so hard to open up? Just a little bit? A hand left the hold it had on wrapped sheet and came up to ruffle her loose hair in a frustrated demeanor. "I will not force you to come with me, Isis."

The other made a sound, acknowledging her decision. Finally, she was getting it.

"But…" _Ah… _too good to be true. Amber orbs locked with hers. A strange fire shined into them. Determination that was. "But it would mean a lot to me if you accepted to be my guest musician. This is not a whim…" a fine dark brow arched at this and Shizuma repeated. "… Not _only_ on whim."

"Thought so."

The conductor shook her head. "You're not getting it. I… it's my way of thanking you," digits started to play with the hem of the sheet.

Isis looked genuinely confused. _Thanking me?_ Why did she need to be thanked for? Getting the conductor angry so many times that she had lost count? Turning her down every time she had an opportunity and thus threatening her own job? Refusing her advances? Although she had to admit Shizuma stopped being all flirty with her all the time. Which was good. Right? But why was she grateful exactly? Brows knotted in deep confusion as she sought a plausible explanation.

"I changed." Shizuma explained. "A bit."

This realization had startled her at first, yet it was the truth. She had changed. This carefree demeanor was still here. It was a part of her as much as what she felt for Kaori or Nagisa. But there was something new. The woman started to _pay attention_ to what was going on around her. The people gravitating in her life, caring about them. Especially more when the concertmaster was involved. She was not trying to have her way with her like in the first days. Slowly but surely Isis had dug her own little place in her surroundings. There was no plays, no hunt anymore. Just genuine attention. An immeasurable desire to know about her.

But Shizuma could not explain her this. Not like that, not… yet, maybe never. "We will not stay there for a long time, a week at most," the woman said, feeling the concertmaster's defenses cracking a little bit. "You can even lock yourself in your room for all the stay if you want."

Why did Shizuma sound exactly like the little girl she was babysitting? All giddy and stuff? She did not say yes yet, did she? Isis shook her head with a sigh of despair. "We go right after the concert is over. Get it?"

The shining grin the conductor gave her was enough to illuminate the whole room. And blind her by the same way. It is only at this instant that Isis remarked her state of nakedness and how the sheet wrapped around Shizuma's body was shamelessly and totallywinking at her right now, inviting the woman to drop an eye on the cleavage it purposely emphasized. _Get a hold of yourself, damn it!_ Shizuma has never been modest. Especially not when it came to her body. Truthfully, nothing to be ashamed about. But it did not mean the concertmaster had to take sneak peek just because she was randomly flashing it at her, right?

Isis closed her eyes, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Go back to the cabin, will you."

"Uh…" the grin disappeared, replaced by a confused expression. Shizuma looked down. "Oh. Yes, yes of course," she walked to the door before turning around. "So, you're really coming?" Her voice was hopeful again.

The woman seemed thoughtful for a moment. A faint smile appeared on her face as she nodded slightly. "I am."

The conductor smirked and opened the door, welcomed by the unexpected sight of a dyed red head. "Shizuma?"

_Oops._ The said girl pressed her lips together, glancing at the employee in front of her who apparently knew who she was. A frown showed up on Shizuma's feature as she tried to recall the name of this girl as quickly as possible before the silence turned from bearable to awkward. Names. Her worst enemy. The conductor turned around to try and get some help. Isis looked_ utterly_ amused by the situation. Her eyes were sparkling with mischief. A sneaky smirk adorned her face. The one that was telling Shizuma that she would get absolutely no aid from her. Actually, the concertmaster was _this_ close to record the whole scene. Or just roll on the floor and laugh.

Time to use the desperate measures.

She turned around to face Ann and gave her the brightest smile she could manage in hopes this would distract her. "Hi…" she trailed off, still searching. _Damn it, brain!_ Where was it when she needed it, hm?

The employee's gaze flickered from her to Isis; then back to her. "You two know each other?" Her fingers pointed at the both of them.

Shizuma turned to the woman again, urging—no, begging her to do something. The smirk widened. "Yeah," she finally decided to speak. "She's my boss. Boss," Isis pointed at the third girl with her chin. "This is Ann. Ann, this is boss."

Relief invaded her body. She mouthed a discreet 'thank you' and turned her attention to Ann again, who looked thoughtful. Not that it ever helped her before. "Wait," she spoke, brows slightly knotted. "You told me she's a pianist, how come…"

"A conductor," Isis interjected.

"So she isn't pianist?"

"She is."

Ann's eyes narrowed, feeling more confused than before. "But you just told me she's a conduct—"

"Both." It was Shizuma who cut her this time. "I am both." Why were they talking like she was not in the room?

The girl slowly nodded. "Okay…" this was not okay actually. She could feel a headache coming. Curiosity won over though. "And you…" she trailed off, looking at Isis.

"…Plays in the orchestra she leads."

There. That was it. Headache. "Since when…" Ann tilted her head to the side. "What—wait, you play an instrument?" She received an eye roll. A double one actually, since Shizuma mimicked Isis.

"_Yes_," she breathed exasperatedly. "Now, please keep it short. We don't have time," a quick glance at Shizuma underlined her statement.

Ann blinked, slowly registering the flow of new information she just got. She nodded to Isis, stepping aside to let Shizuma go and stared back at the concertmaster. That kind of look that said they would have a very long discussion about it. With the juicy details of course. The concertmaster acquiesced silently before going back to work.

* * *

What was this strange feeling invading her? That one that was knotting her insides and making her hands shake every once and then? Her heart was pounding a little too much, too but the sign that betrayed her body was when she wetted her lips for the tenth time in eight minutes.

Nervousness.

_Right._ She shook her head. Shizuma Hanazono did_ not_ get nervous, you must be mistaken. But then again, the signs could not be denied. She was anxious. She, who could lead an entire orchestra in front of thousands people was apprehending the arrival of _one_ person. Where did the former Shizuma go, uh? The one that was making everybody nervous – and not the other way around. The one that could openly and shamelessly flirt with you while performing Rachmaninov? For sure the woman had changed and most of those 'adaptations' were welcomed, still she could not say she did not miss those times.

_Fun times_, she smiled, pouring a glass of juice for herself. The home was quiet. As it has become since Nagisa left. It was one of the hardest changes that had occurred in Shizuma's life – and she assumed, in Nagisa's too – but eventually, she got used to it. Of course the ambient silence was making her uncomfortable time on time and she, more than once wondered how in hell did her ex-partner all alone in a daily basis (which also led to some more self-inflicted guilt towards their past relationship) but it did not feel like the first days anymore. The house was big and desperately empty but it was hers to get a new start with.

Shizuma glanced at the digital clock on a worktop. _A few minutes more…_ that she would be spending in the music room. The woman walked to the closet and opened the padlock with the nearby key. Hundreds sheets welcomed her, dust too. It did smell of hard work and ink. Everything in there was the fruit of countless hours of brainstorming. Sometimes it helped her to relax; sometimes it bothered her at night, begging to be laid down. To take form, not only in her head. The conductor scrolled into the papers - some were yellowed by time - until she found what she was looking for. A lone Overture. Sweet, carefree and fresh, carrying just this subtle hint of melancholia that she learnt as being her _own_ trademark. A signature, like a digital print. She had heard it a lot of time in her head. Sometimes with an orchestra, sometimes only with a piano.

She sat at the piano, carefully positioning the sheets of paper. After fifteen minutes of meticulous warm up, amber eyes drifted back to the partition and she let the notes impregnate her mind. Remembering bit by bit when and where it was created and how she wanted it to be played. It's only then that the woman allowed her fingers to run on the keys. Her left hand settled, playing the constant same set of notes as the right one joyfully limped on the keys. A few memories rushed back when she played. Of her father, Nagisa and Kaori. Of the happy moments they had spent with each other, notes becoming lighter and lighter before coming to an abrupt stop.

The door had ringed.

Shizuma crashed off of her bubble and left the instrument, she walked through the corridor quickly checking herself in the mirror nearby and opened the door. Her own miniature reflection greeted her through grey colored mercury sun glasses.

"Living among the stars, why am I not surprised?" Isis flashed her a grin, turning her head left to right before removing her glasses. "I think I saw Madonna going for a footing."

The conductor chuckled. "Don't be foolish." Plus the singer was not in town currently.

"Right," she passed the threshold when Shizuma stepped aside. "Well, _excuse me_ but my VIP pass does not allow me to wander is this part of London," and if the older woman had not warned the grumpy guard that was checking the whole neighborhood of her arrival, Isis was pretty sure he would have kicked her ass. He had _that_ look.

Shizuma closed the door behind her, letting Isis walk her way into the hall to the living room. Her eyes darted everywhere, like a curious little kid until she came to a full stop upon arriving to the said living room. The conductor walked past her and turned around, meeting a frozen face.

"What's wrong?"

It took a few seconds for Isis to gaze at her. "Aside from the fact that you can store my entire flat in here?" She pointed the room with her hand, an eyebrow crooked upward. "Nothing much, really."

One of the reasons why the older woman never liked to have people at home was this. How most of them would stare in awe and insist on having a tour of the house like they were in a museum. Even the sight of the - spacious and well equipped – kitchen was enough to get them high. For her it was just a house, nothing more. Of course she was proud of having been able to buy it – even if it was with her heritage at the time and not a hard earned paycheck - not because it was big or anything. Just because back then, this purchase meant something for her and for Nagisa, too. She will always hold a kind of fondness for it. Tenderness that people generally mistook for a demonstration of power coming from a snob rich girl. She scowled inwardly at Isis.

"But I prefer my place," the concertmaster went on, noticing her mood swing. "Too big here. It freaks me out."

This place was meant for a couple. And children most likely. Shizuma had barely thought of if before buying. But now, it was different and she was starting to notice how of an empty house it was. Even considered moving. Her brows furrowed slightly at the idea before she shook her head. Those matters would be dealt with later.

"Where's the piano?" There was no sight of the instrument in the living room to the concertmaster's utter surprise.

"The music room."

"The… music room?" Isis repeated, incredulous.

"Yes, the music room."

"You have a… music room?" The woman blinked again while moving her hands. "In here?"

Shizuma stared back at her with a blank face. "Yes," and before the other could open her mouth and repeat her sentence again, she gestured toward the corridor. "This way."

Isis nodded to herself, clapping her tongue in amazement as she followed her. A music room. _Really?_ While she was freezing her ass, her fingers threatening to fall off during winter on the roof, Shizuma was enjoying herself in _her _music room? Just how fair was that? _Rich people and their whims…_ not that she could talk, if she came to think about it closely. She was still quite lucky.

Thank God, the room was not as large as the living room. It did not feel as empty as the rest of the house, much the opposite in fact. This room was _habited_ in a twisted way, Isis felt it right when she crossed the threshold. Aside from the fact that Shizuma's fragrance was floating everywhere, it also smelled of _music_. She did not need to think much to picture Shizuma working late at night on the table on the right, then walking to the center of the room to try the sheets on the piano, going back and forth until she gets the right thing.

The sound of a chair being tugged away drew Isis out of her thoughts. Shizuma sat at the table, sheets spread all around.

"Impressive room," the other woman uttered while taking a seat. "Why do you bury yourself in that dark hole at work when you have _this_?" she waved her hands around, raising an eyebrow.

"Because…" she handed her the first part of the partition. "I could not focus when I was here." Oddly enough, since she's been living alone, Inspiration seemed to come back again, bit by bit.

Isis simply nodded, getting ready to work as she grabbed her glasses from her purse and a lollipop that she unpacked under Shizuma's surprised stare. "What?"

The conductor crooked an eyebrow at her.

"I need something in my mouth when I work, it helps my concentration," her lips wrapped around the candy.

Shizuma had to use _all_ her will not to make any inappropriate comment. "It's the first time that I see you doing this," she pointed out, trying to keep a neutral face at the sight.

True, during all her working session, she's never seen Isis using food as focus catalyzer. She took snacks when hungry – proposed if Shizuma wanted some as well – but that was it.

"It was not work," at the hard look she was given, the concertmaster précised, "To my standards." She did not want the other to think that she was not taking her job seriously. Quite the contrary in fact. But to her, it was not work. It came naturally. Always. Maybe that's the reason why Paris contacted her in the first place?

"And now?"

Isis flashed her a huge grin. "Shit just got real."

-0-

Hours succeeded to days which followed weeks as a certain routine was starting to settle between the two women. The concertmaster would come on her days off or after her shifts. They would work together in Shizuma's music room. Trying different techniques, different interpretations and patterns. The older woman would dispose a few advices for the concert to help out. Isis would bring what little experience she had into the whole. They were doing a good job, so far which only comforted Shizuma onto her choice of partner, music partner for this concert.

After hours of working – usually until the two women saw notes, quavers and other semi quavers running in front of their eyes – they would finally indulge in a well-deserved meal. At Shizuma's place or outside to get some fresh air for their brains, just like now.

"…He just came back, all red. I was pretty sure he was going to yell at me for not having his back but he just raised his hands in the air and yelled: that was _awesome_!" Isis finished, eyes twinkling as she remembered Kowalski's outburst, years back. "Crazy guy."

Shizuma's burst into incontrollable laughter. "Indeed."

Throughout their frequent meetings, both of them had started to open up, slowly but surely. Which resulted in them sharing funny stories from their past. Not much really, just shallow memories both were fond of.

"So," Isis spoke again as her chopsticks dug into the plate of sushi placed on the middle of the table. "I heard Yaya and you knew each other since high school?"

Shizuma nodded, examining the bowl of miso soup closely. "We were boarders. Not the same school, but same dorms," her eyes narrowed slightly when the piece of carrot she had been trying to grab for the past three minutes eluded her with disconcerting ease. "There was Miyuki too." A pause. Damn carrot escaping again. "… and Nagisa."

Were it been someone else, the concertmaster would be in awe as to how two people that met in high school were still together years later. But considering it was _Shizuma_ and how things ended up with the red head, she made no comment and kept silent while observing the other woman fight with her food. "Here," she reached with her hands. "You're holding them wrong."

The conductor blinked in surprise before letting her limb loose to be manipulated. "Stick it in the crook of your thumb. Yes, like this." Isis took the second chopstick. "Hold this one in between your index and thumb. Like a pen." After a few seconds of struggles, Shizuma managed to find the right position and was finally able to grab something solid with them. A childlike grin split her face as she savored her victory. _Take that, carrot._ It is only then that she noticed the other's expression.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Isis responded quickly, fighting the urge to smile.

Amber eyes narrowed at her. "For some reason, you are mocking me. I would like to acknowledge it."

"I saw you fighting with those all dinner," she pointed at her right hand. "Aren't you supposed to be Japanese? I mean… this has to be in your DNA or something, right?" A glint of humor made it through the younger woman's eyes before she gave in and giggled. "Okay, fine, fine. Stop giving me that look, already."

Shizuma's features softened a little bit as she grumbled. "I am not Japanese," she pointed out, as a matter of fact.

Yes, she had a Japanese name and surname, those were given by her father, following a tradition wanting that each and every member of the Hanazono family had to bear their name with pride and confidence. A way to honor their Japanese ancestors. The powerful clan of Yoritomo Hanazono who fought in the name of the Emperor to unify the different tribes. Poor dude ended up being killed by the very same Emperor, but it was too late. The Hanazono heirs had already spread into the highest spheres of the government, pulling the strings of power in the backstage. Eventually, some members the family emigrated from Japan before World War Two struck, but they always kept their name intact.

Shizuma had bloodthirsty warriors and deceitful strategists' blood running into her veins. She made a mental note not to mention this to her. The girl would not believe her, anyway. "I did not get to choose my surname when I was born, Isis. This was a fantasy of my father."

"Heh…" the concertmaster gave her a knowing look. "Tell me about it," she added lowly, her face darkening a bit.

Shizuma smiled at her. "You never asked why?"

"I did!" She replied, intently observing the bottle of sake and weighting her options. "She always finds a way to avoid the question," her head shook slightly as she made her mind and poured a glass of water instead. "I think she was high when she chose it."

The conductor chuckled. "It's possibility to take into account." Euphoria of giving birth, hours of labor and morphine must have played a role somehow. Or so she suspected. She followed Isis' example and took a sip of water. "Anyway, it fits you," she said truthfully.

"Uh… thanks." Sensing that this conversation was starting to slip into a path she did not want to take, Isis decided to change the topic. "When's the flight?"

Shizuma looked up from her drink, surprised by the sudden question. "On Monday morning, as you asked."

The concertmaster had requested they book a flight two weeks before the concert at the utter amazement of the other woman who compelled without a word. She had not explained her decision though, and Shizuma just forgot to ask.

"I guess we're not working tomorrow, then?" Blue yellowish eyes drifted to the nearest waiter, signaling for him to fetch their bill. He answered with a cut nod and she refocused her attention on the conductor.

Shizuma shook her head. "I don't think so, no." Tomorrow was their last day. Better use it to relax and pack, right? "Unless you miss me too much?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned forward, both elbows on the table. "And feel like spending the entire day with me?" _In bed?_

Isis approached her head as well, a small smile on her face. "No chance."

They kept looking at each other, the younger woman still smirking as the tension built between them. Back to the old days. Back to the dangerous and addictive game they indulged. Shizuma's eyes twinkled with the thrill of the hunt. This woman was surprising her, day by day. She was a seductress. Not like her, no. A more subtle one. Not the type of girl that makes you drool and crawl at her feet at first sight. Isis was the most dangerous kind. The one that impregnate into your brain, infuse into every fiber of your being and play mercilessly with your nerves. The conductor had learned it over the months, or rather, was the victim of it. Though, the younger woman was not doing it on purpose – chances were she had absolutely no idea how much power she had over Shizuma now, seeing at how the latter was good at hiding those things. She was not playing hard to get. Isis was actually hard to get.

Lust was a very dangerous thing.

The sound of a throat being cleared was all it took to break the charm. The poor waiter received a glare from Shizuma and tried to ignore it. Isis grabbed the bill from his hand quickly before the other could even register what happened. She stuck her credit card in before giving it back to the waiter with a smile that he professionally returned.

"My treat," was all the concertmaster said at quizzical look she was given. She took her card back after a while and followed the other out of the restaurant. "The weather is not chilling today. Weird." Obviously, sun had to show up exactly when she was going to leave town. Talk about luck.

Shizuma only hummed. Looking up at the stars she could not see. She missed her household during those times. Sky there, was as clear as crystal. When the concert is over, maybe she could spend a few days there? The woman could really use a break. Real vacations for once. She smiled. Those would be the very first time she would spend holidays _alone_, without the spectra of her past relationship with Nagisa. The thought was not as fearsome as it could have been a few months ago.

"Thank you," the conductor broke the peaceful quietness when they started walking.

Isis turned to her. "What for?"

"The…" How could she describe it? It was not a date, was it? Shizuma shook her head in frustration. "… For the restaurant," fair enough. It was neutral. She felt the other smile.

"Don't mention it," they were a few feet away from the corner of the street. The concertmaster was going to the right and Shizuma to the left. Isis slowed her pace down upon arriving. "By the way, next time I'm definitely taking pictures of you and chopsticks. They're going to be everywhere in the living room at work."

"You would not dare."

"Try me."

The conductor laughed. "And what would be the purpose of this?" Apart from a public humiliation.

Isis stopped walking to face her. "For everybody to see that beneath that silver blur of yours, there's a human being. The guys need to see you in a compromising situation time on time, you know? They would stop acting like you're some kind of goddess or something."

Another smile tug at the older woman's lips. _Suits her to use this word…_ "I guess…it can be justified," she tilted her head to the right, thinking. "Nothing forces me to go for this kind of restaurant next time, though." Wait, will there be a next time?

A mysterious smirk appeared on the concertmaster's features. "We will see," she glanced to the right, sighing. "Um…" Shizuma stared at her, perplex. "Goodbye?" _You just brought awkward to a whole new level… smooth, girl, very smooth_, a voice snorted in Isis' head.

"Yes," the other nodded, frowning and smiling at the same time. "See you at the airport."

* * *

The last day passed swiftly. Shizuma, being the female creature that she was, had spent half of it packing and unpacking her luggage. Deciding on an outfit before tossing it aside on the bed and re-taking the very same clothes one hour later. Dilemmas succeeded to other dilemmas until the woman reached a more or less fair compromise with her inner self. The suitcases were still wide open on the bed, shirts, pants and other dresses scattered everywhere in the room. It looked like a battlefield. Like a typhoon that would have stormed in, turning the closet upside down and kindly excused itself.

Her fingertips itched. She reached for a suitcase _again_ before shaking her head. No more fumbling with the clothes or she wouldn't be ready for tomorrow. Shizuma shook her head and literally ran out of the room. One minute more and she would have started the process all over again. The woman walked down to the living room, checking for the umpteenth time if she had all the music sheets and notes taken. She was going to open the concert with Ravel. Isis and she were going to end the representation with Kreutzer's Sonata. The concertmaster's favorite. She felt a smile tug her lips at the thought. For the first time in a long time she was feeling anxious about it. A different kind of nervousness. She knew her level; it was not the source of her worry. She knew Isis' level as well. She had played with numerous musicians, more or less talented. More or less famous. She had always made a point of honor to be ready. To be worthy of their work and their time. Always. And yet, now she feared it would not be enough. That _she_ would not be worthy enough, not for Isis.

Needless to say that Shizuma had not slept at all that night.

-0-

"Thank you," she said as the man handed her ticket back with a smile. Shizuma sighed, looking around the airport. Anonymous faces rushing, dragging their luggage like boulders at their sides. It had been a while since she last took a flight. In fact, the woman had not set a foot in an airport since she came back from Russia, months ago. Running the continents, literally living in airports, seeing nothing of countries she was performing in except for the concert room and her hotel. Of course, there were a few 'off' nights. The woman would allow herself a little fantasy such as dining in a restaurant or playing the midnight tourist. But it was sporadic. It was hard, to say the least. A difficult lifestyle that could only compare with the ones international top models were having.

Glitter, rhinestones and fame were only the visible part of the iceberg. The rest was ignored, swallowed under the amount of kilometers and hours spent travelling.

Shizuma spotted a bush of brown hair walking among the crowd. A small smile breaking unconsciously on her face before disappearing as soon as it came at the sight of the child the woman was carrying. _Missed…_ again. She threw a quick glance at her watch. Boarding would be over soon and Isis was nowhere to be seen. The conductor wetted her lip nervously. She couldn't have forgotten, could she? _No. Impossible_, Shizuma told herself, she had even made sure to inform her about the schedule last night. Isis had replied to her text with a _'Yeah, okay. See you.'_ It _had_ to mean something, right?

She could not let her down right now. She had no right to do so. Isis couldn't give up on her like… like everybody else.

_"Flight T-852 to Paris- Charles de Gaulle. __Boarding Gate two,"_ a sultry female voice said through speakers.

Suddenly all her fears reappeared. Shizuma's brows furrowed as the thoughts mercilessly invaded her head. _She could not make it…_ just like everybody else. Could not handle her. Isis had abandoned the woman, she had surrendered to her own demons. Foolish. She was a fool for thinking that maybe, maybe this one would be different. She was not. She was human. Just a woman, among others. She didn't care. Had she, ever? About her? Why did she make it seem like she did? Why did she let Shizuma _hope_?

Thoughts were becoming more and more deafening. The sultry voice spoke again, but the conductor did not hear it. She was lost. Feeling uncertain and completely out of place until a hand on her left shoulder startled her. She briskly turned around, meeting familiar eyes.

"Wow. Chill, Shizuma, it's me." Isis' word barely made it through her buzzing ears. The concertmaster took the time to straighten up, visibly out of breath. "Before you start rambling: I know I'm late, okay? Leslie was supposed to keep the cat while I'm out but he was not answering his phone. Had to go to his pla—are you alright?" She enquired, finally acknowledging the state of the other.

Shizuma's brows furrowed again, not understanding. "You seem… bothered." The young woman clarified. She opened her mouth to speak again but got interrupted.

_"Last call for the_ _flight T-852 to Paris- Charles de Gaulle. __Boarding Gate two."_

Isis cursed under her breath, taking her luggage and walking briskly towards the boarding gates. The conductor did not move from her spot. Brain slowly registering what had just happened. _She… came. _She did not let her down like the conductor thought she would.

_"Hey!"_ The concertmaster's voice rang again, drawing her out of her thoughts. _"You coming?"_ She said in slightly accented French.

Shizuma looked up from the floor, a bright smile splitting her face as she nodded and followed the woman.

_I was wrong…_ after all. Isis _was_ different.

* * *

**I'm sorry for the length and also the poor quality of the chapter. To my defense, I'll say that a lot of things happened these past months in my life that pushed me away from writing. The current situation is that it's become impossible to keep my focus on the story – in short I can't stay hours on the computer writing/thinking anymore – and it kind of killed my muse. It'll come back though. Just need to clear my head a little bit. Once again, I'm sorry.**

**Next chapter will have new OC's introduced. **

**Rachmaninov can be written Rachmaninoff as well but guys, please, please… it is **_**goddamned**_** ugly. It's like I'm dishonoring my language when doing this. So here a quick lesson of Russian : the "v" (в) when placed at the end of a word/noun is pronounced "f" thus when switching from Cyrillic to Latin alphabet there is no need to change the letter. An example? ****Киев** **(in Russian) is translated Kiev in Latin alphabet (Ki-ie-f) so far I've never heard anyone pronounce it Kieve. Except my geography teach in middle school but she sucked ass. Got it? No more double "f" at the end of nouns okay? They **_**don't**_** exist.**

_**Hanazono**_**: Okay, so the part about Shizuma's ancestors coming from Japanese imperial princes? It's true. Actually no, it's not, I just changed the name to fit into the story but the background is accurate. Their name wasn't Hanazono but **_**Minamoto **_**(ring a bell?) they kind of took over the power and ruled Japan – in the shadows of the Emperor and other twists though – starting with Kamakura, for a little while during the X and XI****st**** century. The name Minamoto still holds lots of meaning and power over there, hence why this background was chosen. The stuff after WWII is utter crap and totally invented though.**

**Paris-Charles de Gaulle is one of the largest (in term of passengers traveling) airport of France along with Orly both of them are situated around Paris. The reason why most airports in this country are named after dead personalities is beyond me, though.**

**A million thanks to the ever faithful beta, Wicked White Queen.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Eh. Don't kill me, please. I _know._  
**

**Critic, I answered you at the bottom of the chapter if you're interested.**

**This chapter takes directly where the previous one ended.**

**Minha Filhia is 'my daughter' in Portuguese.**

**Mauro is pronounced Ma-oo-ro**

**Still don't own Strawberry Panic!**

* * *

**Legato**

**By Hazel Liebovsky**

* * *

Chapitre Six partie deux

_One hour and half… it's only one hour and half._ Not a big deal, right? Nothing to be worried about. Especially when you already experienced the twenty hours flight to Australia at least twice a year. Yet at this moment, it did not matter to her. All Shizuma could focus on at this instant was her pounding heart and the cold liner of sweat running on her back, taunting her. She grabbed her purse and fumbled in it, _again_. The woman knew it was in vain, the bottle of pills was not going to magically appear, not after four infructuous attempts. _Damn it!_ She _knew_ she had forgotten something the moment she entered her car. Why, of all things had it to be her pills! She let another frustrated, quivering sigh and looked around. Isis was on her left, eyes narrowed and completely absorbed by her phone. On her right, the hallway. Passengers and stewardesses adorning big deceiving smiles, looking happy like that. How could they be so oblivious to her state! They didn't care? Why nobody cared? Shizuma gripped the hand support in frustration.

_I can't stay here. I have to… I can't—I need to go…_ the conductor was losing control. She closed her eyes, taking lungful shaking breaths. It did not work and she was interrupted by a stewardess with her big grin and faked happy demeanor.

"May I help you?" She bended forward, her eyes flickered to Isis quickly. "The plane will take off shortly, Miss. You have to turn your phone off," and refocused her attention to a very pale looking Shizuma.

"Do you have sleeping pills?" the tone of her voice was hollow.

The stewardess cocked her head, the smile not leaving her face. Widening, even. "I apologize, but the policy of the company does not allow us to provide medications, were they needed in case of emergency," she recited the speech learned by heart.

_In case of emergency…_ The words played in her mind. Wasn't _she_ an emergency enough? Shizuma has never felt the need to punch someone before. Right now though, she would not be against a well-placed uppercut. She was not one to beg either, not wanting to give the satisfaction to anyone of seeing her in a weak position. It did not matter at this moment and it's with difficulty and a dry mouth that the woman started her plea. "Can't you do something? Pleas—"

"It's alright," Isis interrupted suddenly, looking at the stewardess whose frozen smile had not moved the slightest bit for the last two minutes. "I'm going to take care of it," she received a nod as the other took her leave.

Shizuma turned at her sharply. "Why did you… she was going to give in!" It was a lie, of course and both of them were aware of it. Yet it did not matter for the conductor's delirious mind. She was actually very close to unbuckle herself and run away.

"No, she was not," a sigh came out of her mouth. "I thought you had taken care of that long ago." Like, after the fiasco on the roof for example. The other grumbled in response before shutting her eyes tightly and yelping when the plane started to move. "Okay, okay. Look, it's going to be alright. Just… think about something else?"

"Why thank you, I have not thought of that before. Any other luminous advice, Isis?"

The concertmaster's eyes widened slightly at the remark. She had never seen Shizuma like this before. "Well, you're bitchy today," she received an apologetic smile and grinned. "I like it."

"This is not funny."

"Am I laughing?" She pointed at her face, the grin still glued to her lips for a second. The plane advanced to the runway and stopped. She noticed how the other woman's grip tightened on the buckle and decided that it was time to act. Her hand feathered delicately over Shizuma's before she took it. "Let go."

Shizuma compelled reluctantly. Isis opened her hand, palm up and started scrutinizing it with attention. She smoothed the outline slowly, making the conductor shiver at the touch. She should not be shivering now! Why was she doing that, anyway? Did she think turning her on right now was a good idea, really? On other circumstances, the older woman would be the last one to complain – or not complain at all, for that matter – but now was not the time.

"W—what are you doing?" The hoarseness of her voice startled the conductor.

Isis did not respond immediately, still focused on her hand. Fingertips continued to run their way on her palm for a minute. "Here," she finally uttered with a smile and started to massage the newly found point.

It took a moment to be effective but Shizuma felt a surge of relaxation invade her. It was subtle, but enough to make her pounding heart slow down and her muscles to defuse. Isis gazed up at her minutes later, not stopping her motions. "Feeling better?"

"I…" she swallowed, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Yes," and oddly enough, it was not a lie. She casted a look at the window next to the girl. They were up in the air and she had not even noticed it. "How did you…"

"You're not the only one that can do voodoo stuff, you know." She winked; referring to the time the conductor had hypnotized her. "It's an acupuncture point," the woman explained. "It diffuses small doses of endorphin through your body," not as much as making an intense effort or even having an orgasm but it was enough to calm one down. "Adam taught me that." A confused look appeared on Shizuma's features at the unknown name. Not someone from the orchestra, she was certain. "The doc at the hospital. Physiotherapist." He performed it on the concertmaster at the end of their session.

The guy had invited her to dinner on the last day of their very last session. Isis suspected he needed that much time to gather his courage, she knew men, after all. Did not accept right away – she _knew_ men, after all – and had preferred to go with a generic sentence 'I will think about it' and a smile, not to mash up all the work for him while keeping the door open. _Maybe I will call him when I come back._ Maybe not. Her eyes sparkled as she remembered something.

"I heard you put quite a show at the hospital when you first came."

Shizuma sighed. "I was worried," bluntly honest. That's a change.

"Yeah…" Isis eyed the scar on her wrist quietly. "Sorry."

It was still visible, only partially hidden by the bracelet of her watch. She had come a long road till now. Part of the reeducation program she had been through included accepting the fact that no matter how hard she tried, the woman would never be able to play like she used to. She had to find tricks, byways that would help her get back to her level without endangering the wrist and spoiling all the progress made. The most flagrant change was the restraining strap the concertmaster had to wear every time she was playing. It was interfering with her freedom of movement sometimes but that was necessary. Extra and meticulous warm up was needed as well as a pack of ice at the end of every session to cool off. Shizuma herself had seen her doing it countless times.

Something struck the conductor's mind suddenly. "Why did you want us to go now? You don't seem to be particularly fond of Paris." Yes, why choosing to go two weeks before the concert after doing all that fuss about not going there in the first place? It did not make any sense.

"I don't like Paris. It's grey. Everything is grey. Even people are grey." Shizuma smiled, _she has a point._ Although she knew it could not be the only reason. "And we're not going there. At least not until next week."

"What?" The older woman blinked.

"There's no way I spend two weeks in Paris."

"Why are we going, then? And where?" She looked genuinely confused.

"Surprise, surprise." Isis winked. "Just rent a car when we land and enjoy the ride."

-0-

Busy. Noisy. _Smelly._ The airport was like a miniature town regrouping every flaws of the bigger one and exacerbating them. Isis melted her way in the crowd, skillfully flowing in between people to get to a shop. Shizuma and she had parted ways once they landed, the conductor going to rent a car with a more than skeptical face while she browsed around for items for their trip. She directly headed to the row of drinks, taking a two bottles of water before turning around and making her mind on the candies. Chocolate, for Shizuma. _Of course_, she sighed, smiling a bit. The girl can't possibly live without her fix. She took other stuff for the both of them and nougat. Very important.

The concertmaster smiled back when the cashier greeted her. She ran her eyes over the shop quickly, checking if she had everything she wanted. Her gaze fell on the range of magazines nearby and she picked one, adding it to the stack with a sneaky smirk.

Shizuma was waiting outside the airport next to the newly ranted car. Her luggage was already packed. She was checking the red tape given by the car dealer a few minutes ago. He had been smiling all along the moment she stepped in. Did not look at her in the eyes until the woman specified the model of car she wanted. His mouth had hung up widely at that moment and his eyes shined with excitement. The vehicle attracted a lot of curious gazes once she parked. A few recklessness even dared to whistle at it and its owner both, having more or less rude comments to add and were blatantly ignored.

The conductor was so absorbed in her papers that she did not notice the newcomer. "That's the car?" Isis stared at the engine with incredulity.

Shizuma looked up, grinning broadly. "Isn't she cute?" By cute she actually meant sexy.

"_She_?" The other sighed, rubbing her forehead. "You've got to be kidding me. This…" a finger pointed at the car. "This isn't a _she_. It's a coffin, Shizuma. A coffin on wheels."

She leaned her back against the car's door, unfazed. "One that can go from zero to one hundred kilometres per hour in less than five seconds." A broad, proud smirk spilt her face.

"My point, exactly." Isis sighed again. She was not getting it. In fact, she wasn't getting it at all. Actually she never understood cars' appeal. Especially fast cars. Especially when the said car cost ten years of her salary as beauty salon's employee. How could they find a heap of steel attractive? Let alone _cute_? It was a damn car for God's sake! Something that is supposed to carry you from point A to point B. Nothing to brag about. "Whatever," she went to get her luggage in the trunk and walked to one of the front doors. "I'm driving."

"_What?_ No."

"Look, the traffic here is awful. I know ways so let me take the wheel until we are out of the city or we will be stuck for hours." her eyes narrowed. Shizuma was gauging her too.

Truth be told, the conductor never used a car during her escapades in Paris. Taxis were largely enough to take her wherever she needed, expensive yes but useful. Thus cars were not needed. In other words, she had never driven there but it would take the devil himself for her to ever admit it. Hence why she did not give up. "The car does have a GPS. Do you even have a license?"

It was a legit question, after all. She had always seen the concertmaster walk around. She never mentioned another mean of transport, let alone a car. It made Isis scoff and shake her head in despair. She put her purse on the roof of the vehicle and scoured in it for a second before shoving a pinky piece of paper at Shizuma's face.

"There. It's a French one. Happy?"

The conductor tsked in irritation, knowing that she had just lost that fight. Isis did not wait for an answer and climbed in; putting the items she had just bought on the backseats. Shizuma followed silently. "How long did you live here?" She asked when they made their way through the traffic.

"In France?" The concertmaster received a nod. "I don't know… fourteen, fifteen years maybe? Something like that. I was around five when we moved, I think."

Her eyes widened a bit. "That's a lot," compared to her own childhood here. Shizuma had only spent a few years in the country. Two, or three. Enough to catch up the language for good.

Isis shrugged. "My parents wanted to settle here for life. I came back to London on my own."

The question 'why' was burning her lips, begging to come out. To be voiced and finally satiate her curiosity, but the woman did not dare. She had the sentiment that now was not the time. She just hoped the woman would feel comfortable enough to tell her, one day. Shizuma decided to focus her attention to the streets instead. She gazed out of the window, drinking into the architecture of the city and the blurry passers before giving a confused look at the other.

"The highway was the opposite way."

"I know," the concertmaster clapped her tongue. "We need to make a quick stop before hitting the road," she smiled. "Won't be long, I promise."

Shizuma nodded, grabbing the items on the backseat. Chocolate? _Check. _Water? _Check._ "What is _that_?" She asked, the magazine in her hands.

Blue yellowish eyes left the road a second, a humorous glint in them. "That's not for you. No questions." The conductor looked bewildered; ready to ask her again but was interrupted. "There we are," the young woman turned to her again. "Give me two minutes," she took the magazine from her hands, the nougat and left the car.

"_Oh…_" the concierge said when Isis entered a building. _"I can't believe it! You…"_

She smiled, an index on her lips before pointing upward. _"Are they here?"_ Her French was a little cranky from lack of practicing. It made her wince.

The elderly woman shook her head, a big grin on her features. _"Holidays."_

Isis could not suppress the sigh of relief that statement brought her. She was not quite ready to meet them, not yet at least. She walked to the counter, putting the items to write something on a piece of paper before giving everything to the concierge. _"Can you give them these when they come back?"_

_"Yes. Yes, of course."_

The concertmaster thanked her and received a bear hug in exchange. She walked back to the car, releasing another sigh. "Ready?"

Shizuma looked at her doubtfully. "You still have not told me where we are going," the car roared to life, silencing their conversation, but not before her practiced ears caught a whisper.

"Home."

-0-

The conductor moistened her lips, a perplexed look on her face. The expectantly gaze she was given was not helping either.

"Come on! You can't do that to me, Shizuma."

She sighed. "I honestly don't know," then tried her luck again. "Tetris?"

Isis shocked on the bottle of water, swallowing with difficulty. "What the… you're hopeless. You hear me? _Hopeless!_"

"I know," and it's not like the woman was keeping herself updated on these things. Although, she had to admit that the thought of losing again was a little bit vexing. "But thank you for reminding me," she kept silent for a moment before daring. "What was it?"

"The Who," she sighed in despair. "Baba o'Riley."

It was her turn to laugh. "There's really a band called the Who?"

"Are you _really_ asking me that?"

Shizuma shook her head. "Never mind." She, who excelled in mostly everything she did, was having her ass promptly kicked at a blind test game but hey! It was not her fault, right? It was Isis' for choosing songs the conductor had never heard – cared, to be more precise – about.

They had been relaying each other behind the wheel, grabbed lunch at a station and were longing the lavender fields now. The older woman had to admit this improvised road trip was… pleasant. She had never been on the roads with Nagisa, or anyone before. The thought had never crossed her mind. She had just not the time, not the will. Right now though, she was feeling relaxed, at peace even.

"Alright," the conductor fumbled with the buttons. "My turn," piano notes filled their ears when she pressed 'play'.

Isis chewed on a candy thoughtfully. "_Amateur," _she smirked. " Petrouchka, Stravinsky."

No surprise here. It was unfair. She could not trick her and the young woman even knew those obscure composers and pieces Shizuma had learned about at the Royal College. She had nothing to do but accept a defeat by flagrant K.O. and take notes for future reference, not to repeat the humiliation.

"Turn left at the next traffic light," she said when they entered Nice. They did not use the GPS at all, mostly because Shizuma completely forgot about it and Isis turned out to be a very capable and entertaining road companion.

They drove for twenty minutes more, the concertmaster's indications preventing them to fall into the traffic and get stuck. It was still summer and the city was full of tourists. The smell of iodine and salt was intoxicating and Shizuma found herself taking lungful intakes of air, a smile grazing her lips.

"I've never been here before."

"Really?" The woman turned to her, receiving a nod. "Well, you missed quite a thing. It's a cool city. But it gets crowded every summer and during Cannes' festival too," people taking hotels by storm, camping all over the place for the night and then running like cows back to Cannes at ten minute-drive. That's why Isis always hated spending summer here when she was young.

They were almost at the end of town when the concertmaster made them go through another route. Her eyes wandered on the landscapes. Sketchy details she forgot. The smell. Cicadas. And—_damn it!_ Horses. She completely forgot about the horses. Isis finally spotted the hill and then the house, closing her eyes and breathing slowly to calm her rasping heart.

"There," she pointed out with a hand. "Just… park nearby."

The hushed tone of her voice alarmed Shizuma. It was so alien. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." Liar.

The two women got out of the car, the white rollers blinding Shizuma. She observed the house they were heading to. The abrupt lines of a brick red colored villa contrasting with the mix of green and yellow vegetation all around. It smelled of iodine here, too. "Where's the beach?" She asked, trying to relieve the rising tension of the other.

Isis looked surprised at the sudden question, crashing out of her bubble. "Don't tell me you smelt it from here?" A victorious grin answered her and she smiled back. "At about twenty minute-walk if I remember well."

A white portal barred their way. "We need a key—"

The concertmaster reached for the knob on the other side of it and opened the portal. "It's for show," her eyes sparkled a bit. "Never closed." The older woman's brows furrowed. It was dangerous, wasn't it? Leaving a door wide open for everyone to see. An invitation to robbery. She was going to voice her thought when Isis preceded her. "It's the south, Shizuma. Everybody knows everyone. Nothing to fear, believe me."

The young woman did not bother with the front door and went directly to the garden behind the house. Both of them could already hear the chatters. Shizuma did not realize Isis had slowed her pace and was walking behind her now. She had been acting weird ever since they entered Nice. Deadly silent at first – not like the concertmaster was one to babble around but still. Then now, letting her take the lead while she hid in her back. That was not right. That was not her at all. She wanted to turn around and ask but the conductor found herself stuck, at a loss of words at the sight of a little blond head with hair as fine as silk looking right back at her with a thoughtful expression.

"_You are not my auntie,_" she turned her head to the right, where the chatters were coming from. "_Mom! There's a Snow Woman in the house!_"

A surprised 'what?' echoed among the voices and laughter. The sound of plastic chairs being tugged and steps rushing towards the conductor. Shizuma felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. What the hell was she doing here? Why was Isis so damn _mute_? The little girl went to hide behind a leg, tightly wrapping her tiny arms around it. Hazel eyes matching the kid's locked with amber ones. Surprise and suspicion shined in them. The woman was amazingly short, the conductor remarked.

"_Who are you?_" She asked distinctively in French. Her hand went to caress the blonde locks and drew the girl closer to her.

Shizuma instinctively put her arms in defense. She had no time to answer as another woman in her late teens appeared from the garden. "_Wow,_" her blue and yellow eyes sparkled with amusement. "_What the hell happened to your hair?_" She was laughing now.

"_Emmy_," the shorter woman snapped. "_There are more serious matters right now._"

"_Oh, yeah?_"

"_Yes._" And by the sound of her voice, it was not something to look forward to.

Finally, Isis decided it was time to manifest her presence and spare a heart attack to the conductor. She cleared her throat and stepped aside from the woman whose silver blur had efficiently hidden her frame till now.

"Calm down," she switched the conversation to English. "She's with me."

Silence filled the gap between them. Three pairs of eyes were gazing dumbly at the concertmaster, soon followed by Shizuma's. No sound came out of their mouth no matter how much they wanted to talk. They were frozen, unable to move. Trapped in a fragile and ephemeral bubble where everything was hushed, everything seemed unreal. The truce was only short lived as another voice approached them.

"_What's going on here?_" This one however was heavily accented. British. With a hint of humor. "_You all left me alone you unworthy daught—_Isis_…_"

"Hi," the said girl waved weakly. "Mom."

Then, then it came back. Everything. Noise and feelings. Sensations. Isis was being hugged. Tightly. Crushingly. A frozen heart warming up. Lips salted by tears brushing against her cheeks. Memories rushing. Hands wrinkled by age clutching at her face. Touching. Words. Comforting at her ears. Everything was back like she never left. Everything is spinning. Was she crying, too? She looked up at her. Her mother. Caitlin. Mom. And those eyes. Those blue and yellow eyes, the ones she gave her. They were shining with emotions, brimming with tears. Just like hers. _Life._

* * *

It was like being in a zoo. Except she was the exotic beast under the glass cage. Scrutinized. Examined from all angles. One of them was suspicious. The other just merely curious. And the last one was smiling mysteriously. As if noticing something she failed to see. But Shizuma knew one thing. She _hated_ this feeling. Their demanding gaze was weighing on her and the fact that she did not know where or on whom to cast hers was not helping either. After the moving reunion with Isis, they had all headed to the terrace and sat silently. This was when the inspection had begun. A silent interrogation that was utterly unsettling.

"Guys." Isis was seated next to Shizuma. "Stop that, okay? She's not an alien."

"_She sure looks like one_," Emily said before being elbowed on both sides _and_ tibia. "_What? Seriously, have you seen her hair?_"

"I…" her mouth finally agreed to open. "I happen understand French as well," she said looking at the third girl whose eyes widened before she chuckled to hide her embarrassment.

"Sorry. No offense."

"None taken." Shizuma let a smile appear at those words. If she was not already certain Emily was Isis' sister, this would have asserted her suspicions. She had her eyes as well as the petite nose. Her hair though, was a shade darker. So was her skin, but the conductor assumed it was more due to the sun than genetics. The dimple was also nowhere to be seen.

"You still have not told us who you are."

It was the concertmaster's other sister who spoke. Her daughter was on her lap, playing with Isis' sun glasses. They were too big for her tiny face and kept on falling off her nose. Shizuma found the image quite cute. She looked up at her mother's whose face was unmoving. She did not know what to think of her. Actually, both of them were in the same situation; the conductor knew she was gauging her. She did not know why though, it's not like she came all the way till here to officially ask for Isis' hand in marriage. She merely followed the young woman. Maybe she should explain her that. Maybe it would make the girl stop looking at her like she was going to slit her throat with a coffee spoon if she made a wrong move. _Maybe not._ Shizuma decided to answer her question instead.

"My name is Shizuma Hanazono, I…" why was her voice quivering. Did she feel nervous? Why on Earth would she feel nervous? She couldn't be. She had no reason to be!

She heard laughing. It was melodious, carefree and the conductor realized it was Isis' mother. The elder woman ran a hand through her short hair and shook her head, looking falsely outraged. "Please forgive my daughters' behavior," she turned her head left to right, scolding them tacitly.

"It seems like they have forgotten their manners," her voice went hard on the last word which made the two other women bow their head submissively. The smile grazing her lips came back quickly, "I am Caitlin. Isis' mother, as well as these two savages over here." she outstretched her hand across the table. "A pleasure to have you among us, Miss Hanazono."

Shizuma felt an unusual surge of warmth invading her body. This woman was nice, polite, yes but not only. There was something else. Something emanating from her, a weird vibe the conductor could not quite decipher. It was pleasant to be treated like a normal being. "Thank you."

"Yeah, welcome." Emily smiled. "It's cool that she finally decides to show up," she turned to Isis. "Why didn't you tell me you went all the way? Chloé would be proud." The mortal glare she received was enough to freeze Hell itself. Emily grinned wickedly and dismissively waved the death stare with her hand, leaving Shizuma completely confused and out of it. "I'm Emmy, by the way," she turned back to the conductor. "Isis' younger sis."

The three of them gazed at the last one who cleared her throat, ruffling her wavy brown hair with one hand. She looked at Shizuma who noticed the dimple fluttering when she spoke. "Tania," her hazel eyes lit up as she lowered her head to the kid to drop a kiss on her skull. "And this is Sarah," the smile on her face made her look totally different. More approachable. Less scary. The blonde girl kept playing with the glasses, completely ignoring them.

"Where is Dad?" Isis looked over the garden in hopes to spot him. She had been uncharacteristically silent all along. Shizuma wanted to ask why but she had the feeling it would be uncalled for.

"You know him," Caitlin said. "Checking on the horses, as always."

The conductor's face lit up at the same time as Isis' paled. "You have horses?"

"Ha! It's a whole _goddamn_ stud." Emily replied, turning to her sister. "You did not tell her?" The concertmaster shook her head and narrowed her eyes, not liking the mischievous look she was given. She mouthed a discreet 'shut up' but the other would hear none of it. "Aw, come on! It's been years!" She giggled.

"This is not funny."

Shizuma felt lost again. Her brows furrowed as she tried to catch up what was being discussed. She felt a light caress on her hand. Caitlin smiled back when they made eye contact and nodded to her with a fond look, telling her things would clear up shortly.

"Oh yes, yes it is." Tania went on, stabbing the concertmaster in the back. "I can't believe you're still afraid."

"I am _not _afraid." Isis insisted. "Besides, whose fault is it?" She gave her a pointed stare. "You locked me in."

"It was a joke!" The woman defended.

"_All_ night."

Emily could not take it anymore and burst in laughter, grapping her sides. Caitlin indulged in a small smile. "We found her in a stall in the morning," she explained to Shizuma. "Poor thing was curled in a corner and refused to come until the horse got out."

"It was not a simple horse!" Isis shook her head vigorously. "She locked me with a crazy one."

Shizuma's brows knotted slightly. "We were going to put him down," her mother informed. "Sad but necessary. His mental and physical health was declining. It was a good boy, though. Great with kids."

"He was crazy, Mom," Isis replied. "_Crazy_." She shook her head again and stood up. "I'm going to see Dad." He still did not know she was here, after all. And she did not want him to acknowledge the news once he came back. "Can I trust you to keep her relatively sane?" the concertmaster pointed at Shizuma.

"Sweetheart!" Caitlin looked wounded.

"_Please._ Who do you think we are?" Emily bided.

Isis shook her head for the third time and left, the conductor could not help but smile at them. The awkwardness of the first moments was gone. The woman felt content. At ease, among those strangers who were attaching in their own twisted way. She felt at _home_.

-0-

The sun was slowly declining, offering its orange and purple shades to the sky. She had walked slowly on purpose, what was only a five-minute-walk had taken almost fifteen. The woman did not know what to say. She had to, but her mind was desperately empty. Maybe apologize? Yes. _An apology._ And then what? Isis sighed, running her eyes on the stud. The meadows were filled with horses. They were going to spend the night outside, no need to keep them closeted during summer. Ears pricked and alert, a few of them looked back at her curiously as she walked. Only one trotted towards her somewhat happily, making the concertmaster deviate a little bit from the road.

"Go away," she quickened her pace and he kept walking beside her along the barrier. "I'm not Emmy. Get lost." Why wasn't he getting it? And all the negative vibes she was sending in his direction right now? How could he just ignore them? Animals were supposed to feel when you did not want them around you, right? It's like he was doing it on purpose. _Taunting me._ Just like his mistress.

What her eyes caught first when she entered the stable was his back. He was bent over, seemingly busy with a recalcitrant box door. She heard him curse in his language and smiled. _Some things never change._

"_Can you get me the monkey-wrench over there?_" He pointed at the table, still giving his back to Isis. He thanked her without turning around and refocused his attention on the door.

The concertmaster sat on the table opposite to him and waited patiently. Her mind rehashed the different conversations she could have with her father and their outcomes. She still did not know what to say, how to say it. The woman was not someone to search or stammer with her words, usually she would just go with the flow, engage in a topic. She was not an awkward conservationist, quite the opposite actually. But what can you say after five years? Where to start? How? There's so much to say, yet Isis knew she would tell none of it. She had tried, yes she did. With her mother earlier. And Tania, Emily too when they were seated in the garden. To tell them she was sorry, that she did not mean to leave that way. That she had _missed _them so much, it hurt to be around them now. It hurt to see how they were ignoring the issues and just talking, _laughing_ with each other like she never left. Like nothing had happened. Like five years had not passed. Everything changed and remained the same, in a way. They had gone with their lives, just like she did with hers. Isis only hoped their roads were meeting at some point and she had not missed the boat.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice the man was not fumbling with the door anymore. Actually, he had turned around and was looking at her right now, his face unreadable. "_Minha filha_…" he muttered, followed by long minutes of silence. He's never been very talkative man. Sullen, even for those who did not know him. But he never lacked affection for his daughters or Caitlin.

He smiled, his dark eyes shimmering with untold feelings.

She smiled back.

A tacit understanding.

_I missed you._

A promise.

_Don't do that again._

An apology.

_I am sorry. _

Acceptance.

_I forgive you._

And finally, contact. Isis did not realize she had hopped off the table, not until she had her arms around his neck. Not until she felt his soothing hands on her back and arm that made her embrace tighten in response as her body shook with silent tears.

_I love you…_

-0-

About twenty minutes later, father and daughter were walking their way back home. Isis had her arm firmly wrapped around his as they walked in silence. "I brought someone…" she said after a while. Tension rose into him, his feature darkening at the words. "A… friend," the concertmaster clarified. The man turned to her with a quizzical expression, waiting. "My boss actually, but she's a good person." If someone had told Isis few months ago that she was going to refer to Shizuma as 'good' someday, she would have laughed at their face. "You will like her. I'm sure."

He made a sound of agreement. Something like a quiet grunt of approval.

_Typical Dad_, the thought made her smile. Night had settled its quarters and lights were on when they arrived. Isis stepped inside, eyes darting everywhere, taking her marks again. The house had not changed much from a first glance. New TV, same carpet. Same wood and white colored walls. Pictures on the shelf opposite the hall, new photos had been added. Sarah's fourth birthday, Emily's graduation… one picture caught her attention though. It was taken when she was eighteen, during a holiday visit. The concertmaster could not quite remember how she found herself in such a twisted position, legs upward with a young teen Emily sprawled on her back and Tania literally crushed on the both of them, her hand burying Isis' head so deep in the sofa that the camera had only caught her right eye. Her lips inwardly curved up, _Happy times._

"…Yeah she did!" Emily's voice echoed from the kitchen. "It was _so_ awkward!" She heard her chuckle. And then Shizuma's. And her Mom's. For some reason, she _really_ did not like the sound of it, especially when her sister spoke again. "God, I wish I had recorded it!"

Isis rushed to the kitchen, finding the four women engaged in a conversation while cooking dinner. Sweet aromas tickled her nostrils. "What are you talking about?" She asked with a frown.

"I was telling Shizuma about that time you went commando and everybody found out." Emily said without missing a beat.

Isis' face literally froze in a rictus of terror, the room falling into a dead silence as they all looked back at her.

"Kidding!" The young woman said after a long, agonizing minute. "You should have seen your face right now," she giggled. "See? I told you it would work," Emily winked at the conductor who was broadly grinning. "You're getting old, Isis," one of her fingers pointed up in a solemn pose. "There was a time when you were doing these jokes."

"It's called growing up, brat." The concertmaster poured a glass of water for herself.

"No. I think _boring_ is more appropriate," she smiled, not trying to dodge the towel she was thrown.

Isis wanted to give a hand to make dinner but all posts were already taken. They were working quickly and efficiently, she suspected they were not even aware of it considering how they kept babbling at the same time. Shizuma was showing off her famously amazing cutting technic to a more than impressed audience.

"Wow," the youngest woman was totally charmed. It perplexed Isis. "It's like you're a Chef in disguise or something."

Shizuma shook her head, looking at her while her hands were still focused on their task. "Father used to spend a lot of time in the kitchen. He taught me a few tricks," she gazed away for a few seconds. It felt weird to open up about her past, like that. Of course, she had told Nagisa about this a while ago. But other than that, she never really mentioned her family to anyone. Let alone what were complete strangers to her only a few hours ago.

"Mauro can't hold a spatula for the love of God," Caitlin laughed. "Even a poor coffee machine can't hold this man," her daughters promptly nodded in agreement.

"Mauro?" Shizuma crooked a brow upward.

"Dad," the concertmaster informed.

Her mother nodded. "He can fix anything you want, but don't ask him to set a foot in here." It was not machismo, really. The poor guy was just not gifted with things related to cooking. Not that he had never tried, he did. But the family's survival instinct stated that he shall never come here ever again.

"Well, except if you want the kitchen to magically fire up." Emily added. "Then, he's your man," she went on explaining how he destroyed a mixer one day, making Shizuma laugh and the others to shake their heads at the memory.

The table was set in less than ten minutes, the conductor went to the bathroom to refresh herself and wash her hands. That would have happened indeed, if she had not bumped into someone. What she thought to be an animal by the way it growled turned out to be a human being. A raven black full beard with equally dark hair was all she could see at first. Gruff and stocky, the man was looking up at her with such intensity that Shizuma felt herself taking a step back. His face was unreadable, not hostile, but not welcoming either. They kept gazing at each other for a while until the woman remembered her manners.

"I'm Shizuma…" she closed her mouth shut.

He stared at her, appraising the conductor from head to toe for long minutes. A grunt was the only response she got before he stepped aside and left her, finally allowing the woman release the breath she had been holding. She met with Isis on her way back. The concertmaster gave her a curious look before smirking.

"You just met Dad, didn't you?" It was not really a question and by the face Shizuma was making, the woman already knew the answer.

"He is…" she trailed off. "Original, to say the least." She knew now where Tania's scary aura came from. It was genetic.

Isis burst in laughter and patted her shoulder. "Relax. He doesn't eat people…" she walked away and added, "On Mondays."

-0-

Caitlin opened the door with a sigh. "Here you go," she gestured for Shizuma to enter with her luggage. "Isis' room. It's not much, but I hope it will be enough for the both of you," she winked knowingly at her daughter.

"Uh…" the concertmaster looked surprised. She had not really planned on this. "Can I get Tania's room?"

The woman's brows furrowed in confusion. Did she misunderstand something? "I'm sorry sweetheart, but your Dad turned it into a playing area for the kid last year." She smiled. "You're slim but I don't think you can fit into a toddler's bed."

Isis sighed quietly. "How about Em—"

"No way in Hell!" A voice cut through a closed door. "I'm not sharing my bed with anyone. It's too hot!"

Both women blinked. "Gotta cherish the sisterly love!" She replied, loud enough to be heard.

"Anytime!" Emily said with a series of giggles.

She stepped inside, joining Shizuma who was looking around. Her room had not changed at all since she left. Her single-but-not-really-bed was still by the window. The office had been cleaned up, though. No more pens and paper scattered everywhere, vestige of her student years. There was the bookshelf she remembered spending an entire day to build up because Dad was not here and she obviously is not gifted with furniture. One of Caitlin's oil paintings was on a wall, shadows and lights playing on a horn shaped seashell. And the pictures. Dozens, hundreds even, carelessly stuck on the wall just above the headboard. Some of them were showing a teen looking orchestra. Others had Isis hugging people while smiling to the camera or making faces. There were a few of them with family. One, in particular drew Shizuma's attention as she recognized the statue behind which they were posing.

"Is that Sao Paulo?"

Isis was busy with her wardrobe, she did not turn around. "Yep."

The conductor's brows furrowed slightly in thought. She remembered walking by a flag on her way up and suddenly everything clicked together. "You… are Brazilian?"

It made the other laugh as she grabbed sheets and pillows from the closet. "Does Vasconcelos sound English to you?" She waited for Shizuma to say something but she did not. "Dad left Brazil for England when he was major. He never talks about his life there," or talk at all for that matter, the older woman wanted to add, remembering the three poor words he had uttered during dinner. She did not dare, though. "Besides, we only went twice."

"Doesn't he have a family over there?" She sat on the edge of the bed, looking as Isis pulled a nightgown out of her luggage, shaking her head and taking a tank top and a short instead.

"He does," the concertmaster said. She did not add anything else.

Shizuma got the hint: no more questions about it. "And you speak Portuguese?"

The woman yawned, shaking her head again. "No, just a few curses." Mauro could get pretty… colorful when something was displeasing him and children had the – sometimes bad – tendency to repeat everything they heard, with a special spot for bad words. She started to unfold the sheets, laying them down on the ground under the curious gaze of the other. "I'll sleep here."

"Don't be ridiculous, Isis." It's not like they had never shared a bed together, right? Fine, it was not a double bed but it they both could fit in. Why was she acting like this? Was she afraid?

As if feeling these questions, Isis shook her head. "Emmy was right. It's summer, it gets hot," she looked up. "Trust me. You will be thankful tomorrow morning," she tapped on the pillow lightly and positioned it.

Shizuma stood up. "Then let me sleep on the floor. Take the bed," she did not even know why it mattered so much to her.

The concertmaster shot her a bewildered look before laughing it off. "You're a guest. Guests take the bed."

It was her turn to laugh. "If I recall correctly, you made me sleep in your couch the other time."

"That was before…" she tensed, realizing too late what she had said aloud. Shizuma waited patiently for an explanation but the woman shook her head again. "Nothing."

It would be relatively easy to press the matter on her. To ask again until she snaps, lure her with words. But the conductor did not want to do that. Shizuma was not stupid or dense she had felt the changes, the evolution of their relationship. She was aware of their growing complicity as human beings, not only as artists. They have both fought against it at first. She did not know Isis' reasons but hers was simple: fear. Fear that being herself would _not_ be enough for someone else. She had always played a role, ever since she was a child. A loophole to the disease for Kaori, a shining star for Miatre, Spica and Le Rim, a mysterious entity hidden in the features of an upperclassman for Nagisa, a source of admiration for pretty much everybody else. She had always been _something _to them, not someone. Not a human being properly said. People always expected something more from her. Why? She did not know. They have always wanted her to be more than what she already was, making her think, in the deepest corners of her being that nobody would ever desire what she truly was if it were not for the extra. A simple woman.

Isis? Isis had never asked anything from her. She had never expected her to be something she was not. It did not mean she agreed to her doings or would not voice her concerns with more or less snarky remarks. But she never wanted her to play a role. That was what confused Shizuma the most. Everybody wanted something from her, it was a known fact. The concertmaster had not. Although uncertainty always plagued Shizuma, she realized that Isis had never made her seem unworthy of her attention. So no, insecurities be damned, Shizuma was not going to ask what she meant by 'before' because she knew she was going to find out, sooner or later. And that for now, she was just going to enjoy being herself around the only person that had never judged her.

-0-

The first thing she heard before opening her eyes was the cicadas. Above them were other sounds… cars far away, an unintelligible conversation much closer. She could not make up the words, caught in between dream and reality until the smell of fresh coffee pushed her brain over the edge. Eyelids opened lazily, it took Shizuma a few minutes to adjust to the dimly lit room. The only source of light was the sun going through the flaps sneakily. Her brows furrowed at the unknown surroundings until she remembered where she was and relaxed a bit. The window had been opened at some point during the night, Isis' doing most certainly. Shizuma closed her eyes again, enjoying the moment before shifting to her back and turning her head to the make-up bed on the floor. It was nowhere to be seen. _What time is it?_ She knew the concertmaster was an early riser but she should not have let her sleep. The road trip had been till here had been tiring for both of them but she could not afford to seem lazy to the woman's family.

The question was; why did she care so much?

Shizuma shook her head and rose from the bed, stretching herself out at full length. She heard a satisfying pop and walked to the office on a corner to get her luggage. A light blue post-it was stuck on her bag. It had Isis' handwriting.

_For the love of everything holy, wear something before you come down. Thanks._

She laughed quietly, looking down at herself. She was topless. Putting on a show like she did last time she slept over at the concertmaster's place was indeed not a good idea. And it's not like she did it on purpose the last time, right? The cat had surprised her. Not her fault. Shizuma walked down minutes later. Quiet chatters were coming from the terrace. A hand came up to protect her eyes from the sunlight as the woman stepped outside.

"Hey, Isis! Your Sleeping Beauty is up," Emily's voice of course.

"Shut up, Emmy."

Everybody turned to Shizuma who was a little surprised by the sudden rush of attention. Isis let a small sigh of relief at the sight of the clothes she was wearing. "Good morning," Caitlin greeted with a smile. "Here, take a seat," she moved her chair away to let enough room.

"… Morning," the conductor uttered indistinctively. Silence settled again, gazes directed at her. Her eyebrow came upward in confusion. _What did I say?_

"Man, that's one hell of a slug we got here!" Emily cheerily said, receiving stares and a confused look from the conductor.

"Shut _up_, Emmy." Isis repeated a little more coldly. Her sister wordlessly compelled this time.

Caitlin shook a dismissive hand at them, giving another smile to Shizuma who was crumbling a croissant and eating slowly. "Not a morning bird, are you?" She poured her a cup of tea. The woman shook her head in agreement, thanking her politely.

It had been years since she had last taken breakfast outside. London's charming weather rarely allowed such fantasies. The change of surroundings was highly pleasant. The three other women picked up the thread of their earlier discussion. Shizuma only caught snippets, not paying much attention. Isis was being updated on the last gossips thanks to her sister and Caitlin. Former classmates getting married, having children…

"He got so fat! You would laugh if you saw him."

"Did he now?" Isis asked, absent-mindedly pouring a glass of juice for Shizuma.

Caitlin smiled at the scenery. _She's not even aware of it…_ "You had a crush on him in elementary school, didn't you?" She enquired knowingly.

The concertmaster froze for a second, looking dumbly at her mother. "I don't remember," she answered a little too quickly.

It took all of Emily's will not to take that blatant opening the woman had just served her on a silver tray. It would be so easy! She hesitated again until a warning look from her mother settled her decision. She sighed dramatically instead. "What are you up to?"

Isis shrugged. "You've got something in mind?"

Emily looked at Shizuma. "Beach? You said you had not gone for years."

The conductor took a sip of her drink, nodding. "I did not bring a swimsuit with me, to be honest," she did not know she had to. Isis had not warned her, she did not tell her where they were going otherwise she would have planned something. A swimsuit was unnecessary for a concert.

The girl's face lit up. "Who cares? We'll hit the city first, give you a tour and get a suit there, yeah?"

A confused expression settled on Shizuma's face, all those giddy feelings radiating from her so early in the day… it was too much to deal with right now. There was also the easiness with which Emily had accepted her among them, that was a little unusual. Shizuma was not used to easy familiarity. Protocols of politeness however had no secrets for her anymore. Rules, easy to apply and reassuring. Conditioned since kindergarten, it usually took people months, years even to get comfortable around her, not twenty-four hours. It felt weird… but not unpleasant. Strange indeed, but a good kind of strange.

"Yes," she smiled to her and then focused her attention to Isis, a tacit question in mind.

The concertmaster caught the hint. "I will catch up with you later."

Not the answer she had hoped for.

The rest of breakfast passed swiftly and half an hour later Emily and Shizuma were gone, leaving Isis and Caitlin alone. Mauro had left long ago to the stud and he was not going to come back until the evening. Mother and daughter were in the kitchen, the young woman washing the dishes while the other observed her, seated on a chair next to the kitchen's island. The silence was comfortable, though both of them knew it was not going to resolve their issues.

"I like her." Caitlin started looking at her back.

"Shizuma?" The concertmaster received a hum of approval.

"Highly mannered people aren't your usual," she continued. "I'm surprised."

Isis shot her a sly glance at this, as well as a sarcastic 'thank you'. "We work together."

"And that's it?"

"That's it."

Her daughter was a highly stubborn thing, Caitlin reminded herself. She was not going to get answers like this. She rose from her seat and proceeded to dry the dishes Isis had just cleaned. They were standing beside each other, now.

"Your hair," the concertmaster spoke. "I like it. It suits you."

The woman instinctively ran a hand through her short locks with a smile. "Thank you, sweetheart. Your Dad was surprised the first time but he didn't say anything against it, oddly enough."

"Dad doesn't talk whatsoever." Isis retorted, making the both of them laugh.

Caitlin opened her mouth to speak when something caught her eyes. "What is that?"

"What?" The concertmaster looked down, following her gaze. "Ah, this," also as known as the scar. "Nothing, really," she looked up, her mother's eyes were filled with worry. _Shit!_ She had not meant for her to know about it. "I just slipped in the shower a few months ago."

"Isis…" Her voice was a little harsher. A proof that she had not bought her lame explanation in the slightest.

"What?" She was not going to get nervous now. She was _not _going to get nervous. Not in front of her. "Really, I'm alright. Look," she shook her wrist loosely to prove her point. "It's nothing, Mom. I swear," the concertmaster shook her hand some more. "See? I'm good."

"It's serious, Isis," her mother glanced at the scar again. "Why didn't you call? Why didn't you say anything?" Her voice was getting louder now, more preoccupied. "Why don't you ever say anything? You're worse than your Dad sometimes."

There, it was done. The first brick of their upcoming long explanation the young woman had always dreaded. It was set. No turning back.

A glass fell on the sink with a loud thud. "I'm _sorry_, okay?!" She had almost shouted the word. She was beyond caring, though. "I know I screwed up," she was not talking about the incident in the bathroom anymore. It was deeper than that. "I could say it's not my fault, yeah. And knowing you, you'd totally agree, but that's not how it works. I _am_ responsible."

"Isis…"

"I _am_ to blame," they were facing each other now. "I tried to convince myself for five years that the reason why I left, the reason why I didn't come back for so long is because I could not face him. But that's a lie. The truth is I could not face _you_. Because I know how you would react, how you _are_ reacting since I came back. Like nothing ever happened."

"Why?" Her eyes closed for a moment as she fought back the tears. Tears unleashed for years. Her honesty, as sharp as a knife. "We could… we could have—!"

"For God's sake Mom, stop! There is no we, here. _I_ had to do something, and I did," she shook her head. Maybe not the best decision, but it was done. Over. "I didn't want you to look at me like you are now. I didn't need your pity."

"You are unfair." Caitlin snapped, her body shaking in furor. "We supported you! We were here for you!"

"This is_ not_ what I asked for!" Her voice rose again. "I needed to be alone, can't you understand that?! I needed to get over it on my own, Mom," she uttered the words. "I… had to go."

The woman closed her eyes again. "Five years…" her breath was erratic. "Five years, Isis…"

A hand went to squeeze her mother's shoulder slowly, as if afraid of what might happen. "I know," she whispered.

Caitlin tensed and relaxed, opening her eyes. "Why, why so long?" Her question made Isis look away in thought.

"I… don't know," she said after a while. It was the truth. She did not know. Chances were if it were not for the concert taking place next week, she would not be here. If it were not for _Shizuma_, she would not be here. The conductor was oblivious to how much impact she had had on Isis or Caitlin. Not that the concertmaster was going to tell her.

They kept quiet for a while. The silence was not awkward as it used to be and both women felt somewhat lighter. Of course, some things were still left unsaid, unfinished, but for most part they managed to get rid the blame and anger plaguing their beings. Caitlin looked up at her, and for a split second her mind tricked her. That expression of loss and worry, the one she had worn so many times a very long time ago. Among her three daughters, Isis was the one who looked the most like her. Not only physically, most of her personality, flaws and qualities. She could see them in her, she could see herself. They haven't had the same life for sure. Caitlin had burned hers from both sides, experienced the extremes and made numerous mistakes. Necessary steps that leaded her to who she was today. Isis had gone through something that forced her to grow into a strong woman. One Caitlin was proud to call her daughter.

Isis finally dared to meet her gaze. Eyes sparkling. Silence only lasted for a few seconds before it was broken by their joined laughter. Her mother grabbed the hand caressing her shoulder and kissed it. "Is it over?" The tone of her voice was so unsure; as if afraid that if spoken louder, the words would make her daughter disappear.

The woman nodded, determination showing on her features. "It's over, Mom. I swear."

* * *

_"I will catch up with you later."_

In Shizuma's vocabulary, later meant a few hours tops. For Isis? It meant an entire morning and half of the afternoon. Not that she was worried about her whereabouts. After all, the concertmaster knew the city; she could find them quite easily if she wanted. No, what was confusing her the most was Isis' overall behavior since they arrived. Her silences. The thoughtful and nostalgic expression she could see on her face when the young woman was not looking. Shizuma only caught snippets of information as everybody seemed to just avoid talking about sensitive subjects such as her relatively long absence by their sides. She did not have a precise date, though. Shizuma suspected it had been more than a few months since they last saw her. Interrogations were growing in her head. Did she have the right to question them? Most importantly, did they have any answer? How about Isis? Would she quench her curiosity or find something to avoid replying?

The woman sighed. _Stupid thoughts._ And, why did even she care?

"You will get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that," Emily came back to sit opposite to her at their table. "What's the matter?"

Shizuma thanked her for the drinks she fetched them. "I'm just…" She shook her head. "Thinking." Emily waited patiently for her to explain, taking a sip of her drink. She looked up at her eyes. _Alike and yet so different._ And shook her head again. "Nothing important."

"Oh, come on!" The girl leaned on her seat, smiling slightly. "You can't just let people hanging like that! It's so unfair." A hand came to play with the straw of her cocktail. "Let's play twenty questions," she said after a while, looking back at the conductor. "You answer my questions and I do yours."

_Fair trade._ Shizuma put her elbows on the table, her hands supporting her chin. "Fine."

A giant grin split Emily's face. "Great. I ask first," her eyes sparkled with excitement. "Wh—"

"Leucism," she cut with a smile, knowing full well what her first question would be. "It's my natural shade of hair, I don't_ bleach_ it," it widened when the other chuckled and she spoke again. "This is a genetic alteration. It doesn't affect the eye color, just hair and skin. I can't tan, for example." Or catch sunburns which the woman was very happy about.

Emily nodded slowly. "Is it hereditary?"

Shizuma acquiesced. "Father. And his father before him," and pretty much all the Hanazono dynasty too.

Silence settled for a few seconds. "That's…" she trailed off. "That's so bad ass!" The young woman clapped her hands. "Tell you what; your first born is mine. I want my bleached child!" The other just shook her head, a small smile on her face. Emily leaned in the table. "Okay, your turn."

The conductor sighed again. How could she broach the subject without seeming too intruding? She had always been good with words and elocution in general. Her duty as Etoile as well as her seductive demeanor taught her that. But Emily was not a parent she had to convince of the merits of enrolling their daughter at Miatre or a potential conquest. "I…" she took a breath. "What happened? With Isis, I mean…" Had she the right to ask?

All giddiness was gone from Emily's features, her expression turning into gravely serious. "Did she tell you anything?"

"No." Shizuma shook her head. "I never asked her, to be honest."

The girl nodded, her expression had not moved and the mirth in her eyes was gone. She kept silent for a minute, thinking. "It—I… I don't think it would be fair to her if I—"

_You're an idiot,_ a voice scolded in her head. "I'm sorry," she cut quickly. "You're right."

What did she think? Asking Emily like that… like she was going to take the risk of revealing things for Shizuma's sake. If Isis had not told her, it meant she had reasons not to do so. It was not a lack of trust, not really. After all, the concertmaster had introduced her to her family, right? So, she trusted her. _No enough, it seems._ Maybe she should stop acting like a child and ask her directly? What could happen anyway? Her resolution settled, Shizuma made a mental note to get to talk to Isis at some point during the week and dropped the topic with Emily. They kept talking, drifting to a subject and then another one until the concertmaster finally decided to join them. The question was nagging Shizuma from the bottom of her mind every time she glanced at Isis but she ignored it. They did not leave the terrace of the café until it closed.

-0-

One of the perks of living in the south of France was obviously the sea. Emily was still a baby when her parents made the decision to move. She had not gone through England's funny weather and had pretty much always lived with an enjoyable temperature and sunny days, which she took for granted now. She could not understand why her siblings seemed to treasure every day spent out. Why they were so happy to be able to take a meal outside as much as possible and going to the beach at least twice a week, even during winter. Well, she did like the sea and the half-naked guys wandering around. But if there was a way for the girl to stay away from the sand forever, she would be happy to comply. She has always hated sand and was harboring it even more now as she stepped out of the shower. Her hand went to wipe steam out of the mirror and she checked herself before walking out to her bedroom. Fingers were at the ready on the hem of the towel to remove it as soon as the girl was safe in her room. Which would have happened if her eyes had not noticed the figure lazily sprawled on her bed.

"The hell, Isis!" A hand went to her heart. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

The woman rolled over on her back, propped on her elbows. "You're still standing."

Emily stuck her tongue out and walked to the dresser, putting on underwear while keeping the towel safely wrapped around her body. "What are you doing here?"

"Tasting the joys of having a mattress," she replied, tapping and stroking the double-bed that was even bigger than the one she had in London. _Spoiled little brat._ Her back had been giving her hell since she slept on the floor. "Your room has changed a lot."

"I'm not fourteen anymore."

"Oh, _that_ you're not." The teasing of her voice alarmed Emily. She turned around, her face dropping at the sight of the piece of lingerie dangling on her sister's index. She snatched it from her and shoved the piece in the drawer. "Wait," Isis spoke again. "Are you _blushing_?"

"Shut it." Cheeks were burning, indeed.

The woman laughed. "So, all that cool attitude you've been pulling since I came back was just for show," the next words were spoken more quietly, as if just for herself. "You're still you, after all." And she was not going to lie; it was reassuring in a way. "So…" the teasing was back. "You don't want to talk about it?"

"About what?" The grin on her sister's face was extremely infatuating. Emily forced herself to remain calm. _No way…_

"You don't know?" The smile widened.

_Answer a question by another question. Clever._ She decided to play it cool. "No, I don't know what you're talking about."

Isis nodded, grabbing the stereo remote on the bed. "Then, a little reminder might be useful," she pressed play. Equivocal lyrics from an eighties song filled the room. Emily's face paled, as the other kept grinning mischievously.

"_Like a virgin, touched for the very first ti—"_

Emily literally slapped the power button off and tackled Isis on the bed, turning her face down.

"No! No, no, no!" The concertmaster pleaded but it was too late. Hands and sneaky fingers were already at her sides, tickling mercilessly. "Stop!" She managed between laughs and breaths, trying to fight back. "Stop, _please_!" But the tickling did not stop. Last chance, " I give up, okay? I give up!" She repeated, face red and out of breath.

"Ah-ha! Sweet words of salvation!" Emily pulled away from her, lying on the bed.

It took a few minutes for Isis to regain a semblance of composure. She turned around to her side, facing the other. "You're an awful being."

"Look who's talking," came the quick reply.

Silence settled again. Isis kept looking at her with a small smile. However, this one was holding no mischief or teasing, a genuine smile. They made eye contact for a second before the concertmaster burst in laughter. Emily scoffed.

"Stop making fun of me."

The woman shifted to her back, still shaking with giggles. "I am not," then more seriously. "Did you use protection?"

"Of course yes!" She snapped. "How did you find out? And who knows?"

Another chuckle. "I thought it was already settled that _I_ know everything going on in here," she winked. "And Mom does. We can't hide anything from her, remember?" Emily nodded in agreement. It was a known fact that Caitlin had this ability to know everything that was hidden from her. Secrets did not live long when she was in the room. "Tania, of course. And I suspect Shizuma too, but I'm not sure…"

"So you're telling me that the whole _goddamn_ house knows?!" Her eyes widened.

The woman paused. "Yes," she gave her a toothy smirk. "You aren't exactly subtle."

Emily sighed in defeat. She wrapped an arm around Isis' belly and hid her burning face in the crook of her neck. "I hate you all," she whined, the sound muffled by her sister's shoulder.

Isis did not say anything. Her hand came upward and started to stroke Emily's hair slowly. She was gazing at the ceiling, thoughtful.

"It was weird."

"It usually is."

Emily pulled back to look at her profile. "I don't really know how I should feel," her voice was small now. She was back to being a teenage girl. "I mean, it was not all spectacular. And it hurt." Oh, little girls' dreams crashing. "I don't even know if I want to do it again, it's just…" she shook her head, confused and desperate.

Another smile pulled at her lips. "Well, first of all: don't tell him that. He might take it badly." Actually, make that certain. Such a delicate and susceptible thing, male pride was. "Secondly, there is not a usual method to deal with this. You just do it your own way. You don't _have_ to do it again right away. Sort your feelings, give it time." Her little pep talk was confusing, the woman was aware of it. But Emily seemed to have gotten some sense, she nodded. "And it will get better…" she trailed off. "One day." Another pause. "Sex is usually lousy for us, the first time."

"Not fair," her head was back in her sister's crook.

"Not fair," she agreed.

They were quiet again. "She asked questions about you." Emily said. "About what happened." She felt the body next to her tense. "I didn't tell her." Isis relaxed.

"Good."

"But maybe you should."

For a moment, only their breaths could be heard in the room. "I… can't." It was a whisper. _I'm not ready._

"It's been five years, Isis."

_Five years, six months and eight days…_ It was a reminder. One she had been trying desperately and failing to forget. It kept winking at her from the bottom of her being, taunting her. Sometimes it felt light, almost invisible. Other times, the weight of its presence was too much to bear. She had settled for loneliness and distance in order to heal herself. Thinking that it was the best solution, for all of them. Maybe her decision was not as selfless as she wanted it to be. Maybe it had been a mistake. A five-year-worth one.

"She cares about you, you know?" Emily drifted her out of those thoughts. "Don't you as well?"

"I know," Isis nodded. Of course she knew. Shizuma had changed, the conductor admitted it herself. She was still her, but at the same time it was not entirely her. The only thing that both of them did not know was whether it was something permanent.

"Don't you?" She repeated.

"I…" _Am scared of what I feel._ "Think… I think I do." And it was frightening. The woman was barely able to look out for herself, let alone taking care of someone else. Of Shizuma, most especially. How did they even reach that point? "And stop smiling," she looked back at Emily. "This is not something to be happy about." How in Hell did the conductor do to win her sister over so easily in so little time? Hanazono charm. _Goddamn witch. _"She's no saint, Emmy. Don't be naïve."

"So are you."

"I'm serious. You don't know her like I do," her sentence was purposely misunderstood by the girl who kept smirking wickedly. "Wipe it off, I did not mean it that way."

"Oh, come on! It's so obvious. Haven't you noticed the way she looks at you?" She did. "That woman is totally eye-sexin—_mhmph_!" The rest of her sentence was muffled by the pillow.

"Shut. Up."

Emily nodded under the pillow. She took her breath slowly. "You should give her a chance." Isis shot her a threatening look. "Okay, fine," she waved her arms. "Peace."

On the first floor, the object of their discussion had somehow landed in an unknown room during her little tour. It looked like a little studio. Some paintings were on the walls. Others had been carefully placed on a corner of the room. A massive table was placed in the center with several color palettes, brushes and multicolored cloths. It smelled of paint and charcoal.

A canvas caught her attention. It was on another far corner of the room, as if placed there purposely to be forgotten. A white sheet was hiding its frame. Curiosity got the best of Shizuma as her hand acted on its own and slowly removed the sheet. Her eyes widened at the sight. The fine line of a woman's profile appeared before them. She was looking out a window. The painting did not catch her face, only brown hair as she was looking the other way. The setting was not colored yet, only the woman and the window were standing out. A light blue summer dress hugged the curves of her silhouette, letting the shadow of a rounded belly appear. Her left hand was placed on it, as if trying to sooth the growing being inside. Shizuma was completely mesmerized by the nymph captured on the delicate paper. The whole scenery, although unfinished, was conveying a sort of melancholia. It was hard to define, the clear and pale shades all around that woman. There were only warm colors, yet it felt cold, fade, as if to highlight only her. She was the center of everything.

The conductor felt an inexplicable wave of sadness invade her. A simple piece of paper, an abandoned work like there are millions. Something so utterly simple, contrasting with the sophistication of today's artists had managed to twist her insides in such a way…

She heard a shaky breathing, but it was not hers. "It's been so long." Caitlin stopped by her side. Shizuma crashed out of her bubble. She turned to her, ready to apologize but the woman cut her. "I have never had the strength to finish it."

Amber eyes looked back at the painting. "I can see why," the words were uttered.

"It was draining," Caitlin nodded. She approached the painting, her hand caressing the outlet of the woman slowly. She should have had destroyed it a while ago but she never had the heart to do it either. Her eyes looked away, at something else.

Shizuma understood and quickly changed the topic. "It's impressive," she turned around, gazing at the studio.

"Thank you," a shadow of smile appeared on her lips.

"You could expose them in a gallery." Actually, she was certain of it. A return to the roots of painting. Simple and efficient. Shizuma smiled, she knew one or two people who could expose the paintings if the woman was interested.

Caitlin chuckled this time, waving her hand. "Oh, no child. That's very sweet, but I left that bohemian life a while ago. Painting is only an outlet. A hobby. I'm not interested in going back to the light." The conductor gave her a confused look. "I see my daughter hasn't told you anything, has she?" Shizuma shook her head. The woman sighed in despair. _Ungraceful brat. You should learn to trust_, she mentally scolded Isis, hoping that it would get to her somehow.

Shizuma sat on a chair in front of the massive table while Caitlin opened the closet. She grabbed what looked like a small chest and put it on the table, taking a seat next to the other. "I have not opened this case in years," her eyes sparkled with excitement. It looked quite old indeed. Older even, were the items in it. The woman fumbled a few seconds before handing a picture at Shizuma.

Her eyes widened. "Is… is that… ?" Time had imprinted its yellow mark on it but the man's features standing next to a young woman were clearly identifiable. She looked up, surprise and amazement shining on her face.

"New York, 1983." Caitlin smiled. "Yves insisted that I assist him. It was right when I decided to retire."

"Yves… the Yves? Saint-Laurent?" Shizuma knew she was sounding dumb, asking the obvious but she could not help it.

"Yes, child," the woman chuckled and gave her another picture. "Barcelona's very first fashion week," she explained. "The girls could barely stand on their feet," she brought her index and middle finger to her lips, blowing in between them in an equivocal gesture. "It's a miracle we got anything done, that day," she chuckled again, joined by the other. Caitlin and Shizuma continued this little introspection for a while. Pictures after pictures, the elderly woman adding a little anecdote on each and every one of them. Time passed swiftly and after a long while, Caitlin showed her the last picture.

"Ah," the conductor smiled. "I know this one." It was the misleading photograph she had seen. "There's a frame at Isis' apartment,"

The other woman laughed. "Her place was actually my pied-à-terre in England when I was still working." A place she had emptied a while ago with the help of a short, gruff guy who had stolen her heart with his sentimental awkwardness. Last step to her new life.

"Who took it?" Shizuma was observing the picture from a closer eye now. Absolutely beautiful.

"Oh," a flash passed through her eyes. The distant memory of a bygone time…

… _What's your name?_

… _Kate._

… _Kate, it is. You have beautiful eyes, Kate. You know that?_

…_. Yes._ Yet, she was the one mesmerized at this instant. _ I do…_

… _Kate? Take off your clothes… _

An alien flush reddened her cheeks, she fought with it before giving up and letting it spread. "Uh," the woman cleared her throat, while Shizuma gave her a perplexed look, completely oblivious to her state. "A… mirage. Talented photographer, really." But as elusive as water. Someone she never managed to figure out.

The conductor nodded, gazing at the picture with interest. She gave it back and glanced at her watch. Half past two in the morning "It's late."

Caitlin nodded, grateful again for the change of topic. That girl had a thing for reading people. _Maybe it's what Isis needs._ Someone who could read her. Who would be willing to. She closed the door behind them and called the conductor before she went up. "Goodnight, and thank you." Shizuma smiled back.

Isis was lying on her 'bed' on the floor when she entered. She had her glasses on and a book in her hands.

"_I did not tell her… Maybe you should."_

The discussion Shizuma had with Emily earlier flashed in her mind at the same time which resulted in the both of them staring weirdly at each other for a moment. It was the concertmaster who snapped first, kicking the thoughts out of her head and closing the book.

"I see you quickly got into the South's stride." Sleep late, eat late and nap.

The woman grinned and walked to the office where her bag was to get ready to sleep, giving her back to the other. "Not yet, I'm afraid." The shirt came out first. "Your mother has a gift for painting." Then the pants. "She showed me pictures of when she was younger." And lastly, the bra. "Why didn't you tell me she was a model?"

Silence answered her question which got her worried. Shizuma half turned around, her arms swiftly covering the upper part of her body only to find that Isis was totally and openly checking her out. It took a few seconds for the young woman to snap out of her trance. Her eyes widened when she noticed that not only she had been spotted, but there was also that infuriating lopsided grin on the conductor's lips when she looked back at her.

_Got you!_

_Damn it!_ "It slipped my mind," Isis quickly stood up to turn the light off and went back to her bed. Her face was burning.

Shizuma lied on the mattress with a content sigh that turned into a laugh as she remembered the concertmaster's face just a few seconds ago. A pillow hit the side of her face. "Fine, I will stop," the mirth was still evident in her voice which made the other scoff.

Isis rose a moment later to get her pillow back and settled again.

"With what happened, I think I have the right to a goodnight kiss, yes?" The conductor half joked.

"Keep dreaming."

_I shall._ Shizuma thought, a smile on her face as she fell asleep.

* * *

Time passed without them realizing. Four days, then five and six. They were in a bubble enjoying the little time remaining. Emily had showed the stud to Shizuma while Isis and Caitlin were gone visiting Tania and her little family. The conductor was leaning on a barrier, observing as the girl was preparing a horse.

"You ever rode?"

"Yes," she nodded. "We had a riding club back in school." It was supposedly reserved to Spica's students, but Shizuma being her usual self decided otherwise and used some of her free time to sneak in during her first and second year. She continued to train after that, during the holiday when and if she was back at home. Everything stopped when she started taking her job a little too seriously. "It's been years, though."

Emily knotted the reins on the saddle, opened the door and let Shizuma guide the horse outside. They walked side by side to the young woman's horse. Emily climbed on him, giving her back to the other for a moment.

"Okay, settle the brackets first," she explained. "Let the left one loose enough so you can climb." She was bent over the side of the saddle, adjusting hers before turning around. "Then you—" Shizuma swiftly hopped on the horse, only using momentum and her legs in a graceful show of flexibility, cutting the girl's sentence halfway. "… Never mind."

The conductor chuckled, taking the reins with a firm hand. "Ready?"

"You bet!" Emily winked.

"Wait." A voice startled them. It was not loud, just unexpected.

Mauro's figure walked towards them in a frantic pace. He was looking straight into Shizuma's eyes and for a split second, the woman thought he was going to grab her and toss her over. It took all her will and composure not to just run away screaming. The man stopped at her – slightly shaking – leg, still looking at her for a long minute. He finally sighed and fumbled with the interior of his coat, grabbing a pair of gloves.

"Take this." His arm kept hanging in the air for a while as Shizuma's gaze drifted from him to the gloves stupidly. Mauro rolled his eyes. "You pianist, right? Musicians must keep hands safe," he stretched the gloves her again.

"Oh." Finally, fear let its place to logic. Shizuma gave him a bright smile. "Thank you," she took the pair from him and put it on. The man nodded and walked away, leaving the two women alone in silence. "I thought I was going to have a heart attack," the conductor uttered, looking at him from the distance.

Emily burst in laughter. "Pretty much the effect he has on everybody," she tapped her shoulder. "You're the first stranger he gives more than three words in a row. This has not happened in a while," she smiled. "Congrats!"

Shizuma returned the smile, feeling very proud of herself for some reason. "Let's go."

-0-

Isis was sitting on a barrier when they came back, two hours later. The woman was conversing with her Dad who was – God knows how – smiling broadly, a hand wrapped on her forearm. It confused Shizuma for a moment. She had never seen the man smile, let alone this big. In fact, she was pretty sure he couldn't smile at all. It disappeared as soon as he spotted the two women arriving. Isis' lips came downward at the sight of the horses, her body tensed in apprehension and she hopped off the barrier.

"Calm down, girl." Emily shook her head, mockingly. "You do realize these little buddies only eat grass, right?"

"Not my problem," the concertmaster retorted. "Just get them away from me and we're cool."

Shizuma's eyes twinkled mischievously. Revenge time! Such an opportunity was impossible to miss. Her horse walked slowly towards the other woman, stopping a few feet away from her.

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" Isis' voice was slightly shaky.

"Oh, I did." He came closer. She smirked.

"Get that thing away from me, Shizuma."

"You don't want that," she replied in her most seductive voice, the smirk widening.

"I do, so plea—" Her sentence was cut by the abrupt move of Emily had somehow hopped on the ground while they were talking and was standing just behind her. The girl wrapped her arms around her waist and raised her towards Shizuma who grabbed and dragged her up on the horse with unknown force. Isis let a stifled cry escape, sitting uncomfortably on the horse who manifested his disagreement to the sudden weight with a loud neigh, going backward.

"Easy," Shizuma cooed for the both of them. She took the reins firmly and repositioned herself, leaving enough room on the saddle for Isis to settle. "Easy," she repeated. Muscles flexing and legs tightening around the saddle as her free hand stroked his neck slowly. "Calm down…"

It had its little effect on the animal that seemed to relax, unlike Isis. The concertmaster was literally shaking in fear. Shizuma felt guilty for five seconds before a victorious grin spread her lips. She met an equally luminous smile coming from Emily before she walked away with Mauro, leaving them alone.

"Isis?"

"What?" She snapped angrily, cocking her head to the side but failing to catch a sight the other's face.

"Breathe."

"I am breathing, _moron_!"

The desperation in her voice, how she was trying to keep a precarious composure was just too much for the conductor. It made her burst in laughter, shaking against her body. It's only at this moment that they realized their physical proximity. Shizuma's laugh faded and she cleared her throat, trying to regain a bit of seriousness. "You are stiff." Isis' scent was deliciously distracting.

"No kidding," the woman shot back weakly. "I'm on a _horse_, Shizuma, what do you think?"

She smiled, her free hand travelling slowly from the animal's neck to Isis' left wrist. "I meant that he can feel it. If you calm down, he calms down, if you are angry, he gets stubborn," she guided the hand carefully to his neck. "Pet him," the woman was not aware that she had whispered those words dangerously close to Isis' ear, leaned forward and pressed against her back.

The concertmaster did as told reluctantly. His skin was thick; chances were he was not even feeling her hand. Why did she even bother? The horse lifted his head after a while, looking the other way like he did not care. _Figures_, she smiled drily. She felt calmer though, which was a good thing. Calm and warm due to the proximity of Shizuma's body against her. It was soft, agreeable, Isis was not going to lie about it.

Maybe a little _too _pleasant.

The young woman slowly leaned backward against Shizuma who got the hint and straightened, her grip on the reign tightening again. "Are you ready?"

"For what?" Isis felt the conductor's arm sneaking around her waist to secure her position. She tried not to think too much of it.

"We're going."

"What? Wher—ah! Stop!" The horse turned around slowly, on Shizuma's indications. "Stop, stop, stop!" Isis waved her hands frantically, voice quivering. "Please just," her whole body was shaking. She was not feeling so calm anymore.

The other woman did as told, silently. She waited for Isis to regain her cool, keeping the hold she had around her waist. Shizuma felt her taking a long exhale before resting her head on the conductor's shoulder.

"Let me go," she managed after a pause.

Shizuma actually considered the option, feeling suddenly very bad for the woman. She was _really _scared. Fear in one's tone could rarely, if ever be faked. "No."

Isis tensed. She had begged her. She said _please_, for God's sake! It was not fair. She was toying with her emotions right now, taking advantage of a moment of weakness. Something even the concertmaster never allowed herself to do when it came to Shizuma. Oh, she could have. She had had plenty of opportunities to do that. But Isis was always so goddamn _nice_ to people. Okay, not nice, no. She just acted a decent human being, not some kind of sadistic _bitch _that was now breathing in her ear and tickling her.

Isis clenched her jaw and chewed on her inner cheek, ready to just jump off the animal, consequences be damned. If she broke another bone in the process, then she would really destroy the older woman. Crippled or not.

"I've got you," Shizuma's words found their way through the haze of her brain.

The arm wrapped around her waist left its place and the conductor's hand hovered on Isis' own. The death grip she had on the saddle had whitened her knuckles and her body was still slightly shaking. From anger, this time.

"I've got you," she repeated, taking a hold of the hand slowly. "Calm down."

Only then did Isis realize that she had been breathing through gritted teeth the whole time, eyes blinking furiously to fight off the tears. Her heart pounded at her ears as heat slowly invaded her body. Shizuma managed to take the hand in hers and opened it, palms up.

"Close your eyes, Isis."

She was in a complete daze, so much that the actually did as told. The conductor shifted behind her, pressing her body more fully against Isis' back. The woman tried to focus on the contact provided and ignore their surroundings. Horse included. She centered her attention on Shizuma's slow and serene breathing instead. On soothing the heartbeat she swore she could feel on her back. On the softness of that body against her own and the light caress of silver hair on her cheek.

It worked and after two minutes of complete stillness, Isis dared to open her eyes, only to find out that she had done so great at ignoring everything around the both of them that she did not realize that the horse was actually walking around.

She looked perplex at the sight of the reigns in her hand. Shizuma was still keeping a hold of it, fingers loosely intertwined with hers but Isis was the one leading the animal. The conductor's other arm was wrapped around her waist like she had done earlier, to secure her position. They kept relatively silent, taking in their surroundings as they headed to the beach slowly.

"Feeling better?" Oh, the smug smile! She could almost _feel_ it.

"Shut up," the woman grumbled. "I'm mad at you, you know?" Her statement was holding no conviction whatsoever and they both knew it.

Shizuma chuckled lightly. "For helping you overcome your fear?"

"For plotting this whole thing with Emmy. I saw you guys coming," Isis replied. "You are evil." She was still amazed as to how her sister and Shizuma managed to get along so well in so little time.

"To be fair. It was her idea."

-0-

The ride back was mostly silent, the two women enjoying the comfortable quietness of the moment. Well, at least it was the case for Isis. Shizuma was thinking again, rehashing the conversation she had with Emily earlier this week. She had been struggling with herself many times on how to bring up the topic. Opening her mouth once then thinking and closing it before repeating it over and over again.

_Now…_

The woman breathed.

_Now…_

Isis felt the hand wrapped around her waist tightening as Shizuma said her name quietly. "What?" The concertmaster was visibly more relaxed than earlier, her voice holding no tremors anymore.

"I…" she swallowed. "Can we… talk?"

Isis remained silent for long minutes, so much that Shizuma thought she had not heard her. It was not the case though, and the woman had heard her perfectly. She had just this wild hope that maybe, the conductor would leave it be. But it was Shizuma, and she would not be herself without her stubbornness and determination. Emily's words rang at her ears again.

"_Maybe you should."_

The woman had dreaded this discussion. Opening up to someone was not something Isis was used to, always afraid, always questioning, overthinking. She had known Leslie for over four years and never failed to her resolution, no matter how insisting he was at first, how eager he wanted to know about her. Truthfully, the woman had never felt safe enough to talk to him about it. It was not that she did not trust him, no. It just felt _wrong_. When the conductor had wanted to know about those things, Isis had washed it off, like she did with Leslie. It struck her as to why a woman like Shizuma would be interested in getting to know _her _when she had made it clear since their first encounter that all that flirtatious talk she was wasting on her had one and only purpose: bed.

And then she stopped trying to seduce her. But she was still asking, still pushing which confused Isis even more. _Why?_ She had wondered on many nights. She did not have anything special, per se. Minus the bat ears and her ability to piss the conductor. And how much could she tell, anyway? How much could she allow Shizuma to know about her? Everything? _No._ Even she did not know everything, after all. It was all assumptions, made up on sleepless nights, theories that seemed to fit.

Shizuma was going to give up, seeing as how she still had not received an answer after five long minutes and already cursing herself for her cruel lack of tact. Getting what she wanted with others was easy, there was always something. A way with your words, smiles to push someone to trust you. Oddly enough, she seemed to forget all of this once the concertmaster was involved.

"No." Isis finally spoke, startling her in the middle of her thoughts. "Not right now." There was another pause, she was pondering. "After dinner, tonight." Shizuma acquiesced

They did not exchange any more word.

* * *

The rest of the day was a complete blur for the both of them. They were there, but at the same time, they were not. Closeted into their thoughts and apprehension for the upcoming talk. Hopefully, everybody else did not seem to pay much attention to their behavior as the two women waited for the night to settle, anxious and impatient at the same time.

Shizuma walked behind Isis silently when they exited the house after having cleaned the dishes. Her heart was pounding loudly at her ears for some reason as she observed the woman. Brown locks danced in the wind, giving her a surreal aura. None of them broke the comfortable quietness when they reached the beach. Isis removed her flip flops and let the sand sneak in between her toes, enjoying its coolness on her skin.

The steep lines of a crick shined in the moonlight. Shizuma stopped walking, completely frozen by the scenery. It was beautiful, almost like sacred den, hidden from the non-practiced eyes. It looked like a lighted open cave from the inside, turquoise water doing shadow puppet on the walls and rocks.

"Magnificent…" she whispered, the echo of her voice singing into the cave.

Isis turned around, a small smile on her face as she gazed at Shizuma's amazed expression. "I used to sneak out and come here to swim when I was a kid."

They found a comfortable place to settle, lying on a large lukewarm rock just beneath the stars. The two women remained silent for long minutes looking up at the dark and light dotted immensity of the sky. Shizuma smiled after a while, drawing Isis' attention.

"What is it?"

She breathed, the smile widening. "It's been quite a while since I have last watched the stars with someone," she frowned slightly, trying to recall the last time she did so. "Ten years, actually."

There was another silence. "… Indeed."

"I know," the conductor did not know why, she could not help but keep smiling. Then, it hit her. _Are you watching me from up there? _"She has always loved stars."

A pause. "Nagisa?"

Shizuma shook her head. "Kaori." _Yes, you are._

There it was. The first step, _her_ first step. The outstretched hand. She could not ask if she was not ready to share, right? That was the consensus Shizuma had made with her mind and heart during the day. Thinking that, if she were to talk about her past, to share it with the young woman, then maybe Isis would feel secure enough to do the same. It was a risky bet, but one she had chosen to take nevertheless. She had nothing to lose after all, right? And what did they say already? _Trust is the foundation of a healthy friendship._ The conductor moistened her lips nervously. _So trust me_, she prayed silently.

It took a long moment for Isis to dare and speak again. Her mind was boiling, overthinking as always when she did not know what to do. "Who?" It was a whisper.

_Good,_ Shizuma thought to herself. The concertmaster was taking the bait. Maybe this little chit-chat about the past could also benefit for her, after all. "Kaori," she repeated, louder. "Possibly the only person I have ever loved."

She did not know. The bounds between passion and love were still blurry to her. Concepts she could not compare or distinguish, even after all this time. All she knew is that it had been intense the time it lasted. Both of them were too aware of their little time left to spend together to let it go to waste with questions that were irrelevant back then. _Would it have lasted if you did not pass away? Would you have stayed with me?_ Those were the thoughts that plagued Shizuma's mind when the weight of Kaori's absence was unbearable.

"Sounds cute." The conductor watched Isis' smiling profile as the woman was still looking up at the sky. "Not fair for Nagisa, though."

"I know," she shook her head, gazing at the stars again. _I thought she was the one._ "My relationship with Nagisa was quite chaotic at first." A chuckle rose from her throat as she remembered their very first encounter. "I was still…" her eyebrows knotted in thought. "… Too infuriated with Kaori to be able to think straight."

It was Isis' turn to stare dumbly at her profile. "Maybe you should have tried to get her back instead of seeking someone else? You can talk anyone into doing pretty much everything you want, I know that."

"Not everybody, no." Shizuma gave her a pointed look and the concertmaster just shook her head in dismay. It made her smile. "I know what you are implying." And it was true, most of the time. "But my oratory skills, as good as they might be, were no use."

Isis stared back at her, genuinely confused. The greatest Hanazono turned down by someone who was not her? "Why?" She had to meet this girl, one day. Get her a drink or something.

The conductor broke eye contact and took a long inhale. "Kaori had always had fragile health. She passed away, ten years ago." Eleven next early spring.

Whatever reply the young woman had prepared in her head died instantly at the back of her throat which constricted uncomfortably. Her own memories rushed back in full force and she shut her eyes to make them go away. When she finally looked back at Shizuma again, her face was still as serene as ever. Contrasting with her own turmoil. Isis wondered how the conductor was able to talk about it so freely.

"I am not trying to dwell on you," she spoke again, seeing how the other remained silent. "I have dealt with my grief a while ago." Nagisa being the victim of all this. Not fair, indeed. "I have learned from it. Life still goes on, as painful as it might be at times." A sad smile crossed her lips. "I was not the only one to suffer from her loss."

And yet, Miyuki had been tossed away, completely forgotten in favor of all those girls Shizuma used. She sought comfort and support in their arms, and trampled on their friendship. "But I refused to see it." She looked at Isis again. "And kept sinking into that spiral during two years."

The concertmaster was looking down at her hands. Shizuma noticed her breathing had quickened, like she was trying to calm herself down. Finally, she swallowed and made eye contact again, eyes glowing. "Why are you telling me this?" It was barely audible.

She smiled a bit sheepishly. "It's silly, actually. I simply thought that if you knew more about me, you would allow me to do the same with you," she shook her head at Isis' face, gesturing for her to wait. "But you are smarter than that," the conductor sighed, somewhat in defeat. "I don't know what happened to you," another smile. "I would like to, though. Not to sustain any curiosity of mine."

The young woman made a face, disbelieving her completely.

Shizuma chuckled. "Alright, not _only_ for that. I have the feeling that it could help you too."

Isis was still skeptical, judging from her expression. "Why? I mean, why would you…?"

She gave her another smile, her eyes shining under the stars. "Because I care about you."

There was a pause. "O-okay."

Silence fell upon them. It was not awkward, though. Shizuma felt oddly lighter and Isis was looking into emptiness again, thoughtful. Making her decision, she shifted to a sitting position before turning her head around and pointing at a set of rocks, hidden from the entrance of the cave.

"I lost my virginity over there."

Shizuma burst in laughter, barely maintaining her balance due to the awkward position of her body. She looked at Isis through blurry eyes. "This isn't exactly what I had in mind." Her sides were hurting from giggling.

The woman shrugged, a wide smile on her face. "You're the one who wanted to know more about me." The mirth eventually faded and her expression turned serious. "I appreciate what you are doing," she said, glancing at the conductor. "I really do. I would like to… to be able to talk about it as easily as you," her eyes looked down, as if shameful. "But I'm not you. I still have to work things through," she licked her lips, frowning slightly. "I will… someday. Not today, but one day. I swear, I will."

"And I shall be here when you need me." Shizuma mirrored her position, stroking Isis' wrist with her thumb.

Their eyes met again, shining with hope, holding a silent promise. Isis got up first and helped Shizuma whose index intertwined with the woman's little finger as walked back home in silence.

"So… you really lost your virginity in that cave?"

Isis rolled her eyes and smiled in once.

* * *

She received another tight hug and a big kiss on her cheek. "Stop that, Emmy."

"What?" Her sister smiled. "I don't know when I'll get to see you again. Stop denying my love, you unworthy sister of mine!" She hugged her again before letting go.

They had been on the threshold of the portal for more than fifteen minutes now, saying their goodbyes. "You can always drop by London. It's not that far, you know."

"Forget it." Emily shook her head. "People driving on the left and thinking that it's totally normal? No thanks."

Isis smirked. "I love you too."

Shizuma was observing the scene from afar, leaned on the car. Mauro was embracing his daughter while talking in her ear. She saw the concertmaster pull back and nod as he kissed her forehead.

Caitlin walked towards her, eyes twinkling. "You aren't going without saying goodbye, are you?"

Shizuma shook her head, a little embarrassed. "I did not want to interfere. Family and all…"

"Child," the woman cut her. "This would not have been possible…" she looked at Sarah whose limbs were tightly wrapped around her aunt. "…Without you," her eyes were shimmering when she glanced back at Shizuma. "I should be thanking you, for bringing her back to us."

The conductor blinked, taken aback. "I didn't—" Caitlin hugged her, silencing the woman's protestation. Shizuma's arms refused to move as she remained frozen in the embrace of a stranger that had given her more attention, and dare she think _love_, than her own mother in twenty-six years of living.

Caitlin kissed her cheek when she pulled back. "Thank you," a smile broke her lips. "You are part of this family, too."

The meaning and implication behind those words were enough render Shizuma speechless as she gazed at those all too familiar eyes. "I…" she nodded a second later, feeling a warm fuzzy feeling invade her body. "Thank you. It really means a lot."

The rest of the family walked to them, after a moment. Sarah was still curled in Isis' arms and judging by the way she was nudging at her neck, the little girl was not inclined on letting go anytime soon.

Emily came to Shizuma and tapped her shoulder playfully. "Don't be a stranger, okay? I may have to wait another five years to see her pretty face again." Isis shot her a glare at this and she answered in kind before smiling. "But you can come back whenever you want." Caitlin nodded, agreeing with her daughter.

It was Tania's turn to speak as her lips came upward. "I know we did not have the chance to talk much," the scary aura surrounding her had lowered in intensity during the week. "But it was nice to meet you."

The woman mirrored her smile. It was a genuine one. "Likewise."

Everybody quieted down when Mauro stood just in front of the conductor. Still as imposing as ever despite his height. Once again, he stared at her with this trademark blank expression that looked a lot like Isis' own. After another unbearable minute of silence he outstretched his right hand towards her. Shizuma took it. His grip was hard, but not bruising as he shook her hand vigorously. She responded in kind to his utter surprise.

Mauro grinned.

Shizuma _dared_ to smirk back.

It took them another fifteen minutes and a rough horse-trading with Sarah (and the promise of endless treats of chocolate ice cream) to get the girl to untangle herself from Isis. The two women climbed in the car and took the road under the gaze of the others.

The concertmaster was looking out of the window, her occasional sniffs disturbing the comfortable quietness.

"This is not an end." Shizuma spoke softly, her eyes still on the road. "You will come back."

Isis removed her sun glasses and wiped the trail of tears with a tissue before putting them back on. "Yeah," her voice was cracking a little bit. She grabbed the woman's hand on the gearbox and squeezed it, feeling the surprise coursing all over Shizuma at the sudden touch.

"_We_ will."

* * *

**I know you probably hate me right now because you were waiting for a big revelation with the beach scene and got wind instead. I want you to know that I REGRET NOTHING. This is just a transition chapter (with the previous one) to set up the next chapter which will be the last one of the first act of the story. **

**It will be delayed until July _at least_ because of you know, that awful thing called _studies_. So be patient, I assure you that it's worth the wait, as they say here, the longer the better. Yes, it has a sexual connotation. No, I'm not ashamed.**

**Leucistic really exists and has been observed only on animals so far. This is a genetic alteration that doesn't affect physical aspect like albinism does (red eyes), just hairs and skin. Said skin is actually more resistant to the sun**

**Many thanks to Wicked White Queen, the amazing beta behind all this who's doing an absolutely great job. Go check her stories, guys. Go!**

**And a special note to Sarah-Andrews and her precious help with Portuguese, thank you again. Yes, because I don't know shit of this language. Or Brazil. So, to those who are still convinced that Isis is an SI and pm me to say so: No. That would imply this fic is a repressed wet dream of mine and that deep inside me, I dream of bedding an anime character. Seriously now.**

******Critic: You did not offend me at all I will just ask you to point out where in the story you think the canon characters' personalities are _butchered_, because that's a strong word nonetheless. I try to keep them in character as much as possible because that's how my beta and I work. She doesn't just go after my shameful English, characterization is also important. I would really like to have a more hm… elaborated comment – you can even keep the sarcasm! :) – so I can improve on what bothers you. I had an answer to your review too, but realized it was a bit long and could give away hints about the story to the readers so if you're still interested in hearing it, you can log in and pm me. Which, (as a side note) would have been easier to answer you right away instead of waiting the next chapter that I'm not even sure you will be reading.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Oh, lookie who's here! Before you start hunting me down – or crying tears of happiness because of the update – let me tell you this: it's short, crappy and unbetaed for the moment so read at your own risks and try not to cringe too much when you spot mistakes. I just finished this and it's late where I am. I don't know when I'll be able to write the rest of this chapter, really and you deserved to have a little something because you've been all very patient and sending PM's more or less kindly asking/threatening for this update. So here it is.**

**Thank you for your continued support, reviews and PM's. They really make me grin like an idiot and I love you all.**

**Savoir-faire means knowledge in the context used in this chapter**

**I don't own Strawberry Panic!**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Legato**

**By Hazel Liebovsky**

* * *

Chapitre Sept  


His lime green eyes ran over the words lazily as he waited for the boarding to start. Finally, after years of hard working, the man was indulging in some well-deserved holidays. Just going back to town for a month or so, nothing fancy. He just missed the city – and his family as well.

The newest release of_ Classica _had him strangely curious, for some reason. He had read the previous one after hearing the chatters and gossips going on about it. A bitter smile spread his lips. _You got your move right._ Everybody had talked about it, talked about her. It was always the same technique after all, right? Hit when it's the least expected.

The others had been surprised, in awe, nostalgic or just genuinely happy. Not him. Confusion, incomprehension and a slight, subtle touch of anger too. _Why now?_ After years, a lifetime for the profession, even. Why _now_ that he was accepted among them, now that everything was finally _right_, now that they were not trying to run after her shadow anymore, why?

And of all conductors, it had to be Hanazono? Really? _You never settle for anything but the best_, and that he knew. Both women were perfectionists to the core. Birds on a feather flock together, right?

_Right._ The man gritted his teeth in frustration. There had to be a reason. Something, anything that made her get out of that self-inflicted retirement to come back and taunt him. He wanted, no, _needed _to know what. Although, he knew he was not going to find out. Not now, at least. Patience is a virtue, as they say. They were going to meet.

And he sure as hell was going to get answers.

A sultry voice tore the man out of his reading, signaling that the boarding had begun. He stood up and threw the magazine out of sheer frustration before walking to the gate. If he had only given it a second look, the man would have seen that, beneath the laudatory critic of London's orchestra last concert remained a few lines written at the very last minute. It was about a small, intimate concert given by Shizuma in Paris with the participation of her concertmaster.

She was in town at the same time that he was leaving it.

* * *

Isis looked blankly at her. Shizuma tried to counter-attack with a smile but it was no use and she finally admitted defeat with a sigh. "What is it?"

A finely defined eyebrow rose. "Really, now? Of all possible places you could have chosen for the stay, it had to be that?" She pointed at the stuck-up receptionist standing behind an immaculate ivory counter. He had been eying them since they entered. Actually no, the woman could swear that the only person he was glancing, rather glaring at, was her.

Shizuma feigned not to understand. "I don't see what is wrong with this hotel."

"Ah-ha! _Exactly!_" The concertmaster hushed the second word, aware that her outburst brought them unwanted attention from equally stuck-up customers. "Nothing is wrong with it, absolutely nothing." Isis spoke lowly, her face dangerously close to the other. "I'm not even sure the personnel are _human beings_," her finger pointed at the man discreetly. Who knows how many corpses they were hiding in their stuck-up closets. Maybe he ate them?

Shizuma uncharacteristically rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous." This hotel was just fine. Exactly what she used to stay at, during her more frivolous times. "It is one of the few that is close enough to the Palais to go by foot."

"You're not getting it—"

"Isis," she interrupted. "Please."

The young woman blinked. Once. Twice. "Did you just… say _please_?" She received a glare. It made her smile. "Okay, fine. But I swear to God it's too… _something_ in here. In a creepy way."

Shizuma shook her head in despair, leading the way to the receptionist. He appraised them silently for a second – Isis could swear he glared at her_ again_ – before smiling at the conductor. "How may I be of assistance?"

The concertmaster's brows furrowed. How in hell did he know they were speaking English? They had not been within his earshot when they had talked. Shivers ran down her spine when he made eye contact with her again.

"I have a reservation," the other spoke casually. "Two rooms," he nodded, immediately reaching for the keyboard. "Hanazono."

"Yes. Yes, indeed," he smiled at her again before turning around and fetching their cards.

Isis cocked her head to the side before speaking in her ear. "I'm paying mine," she whispered.

Shizuma turned to her with a simple, "No."

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes. Look," she shifted to be able to face her. "I don't need your—"

"You are a guest," the woman interjected, quoting her words of last week. "Guests do not pay," and flashed her that infuriatingly bright lopsided grin.

Isis did not quite know if she was referring to the music part of guest or the more conventional one. Still, she was not going down without a fight. Opening her mouth, ready to rant about X and Y reason on why she _was_ going to pay her part when the receptionist interrupted her before any word could come out.

"Here," he handed them to Shizuma with a smile. "A butler will escort you to your rooms. Have a nice stay."

She bowed her head slightly, leaving the other completely frozen on the spot as she followed a young man with a uniform. Isis quickly followed suit. She made a point of honor of being the one to give him his tip before he excused himself and left them alone.

"So what happens now?" She asked, the bed bouncing beneath her as she fell flat on it. Her room was just next to this one. They had been sharing Isis' bedroom in Nice for a week, both of them were glad to have a semblance of privacy back for a few days, at least.

Shizuma opened the window, taking a good, appraising look at the_ Hôtel des Invalides_'s golden dome nearby. "I would suggest we rest for a bit."

Isis propped herself on the elbows, looking at the conductor's back. "If I didn't know better, I would swear you're getting soft."

It made her laugh. The truth is that they had not practiced at all last week. Which was a highly unprofessional thing to do, especially at such a close range. Had it been months back, she would have voiced her concerns, maybe insist on finding a way not to waste a whole week of practice. Now though, she could care less about it. She knew the pieces inside out, so did Isis. They were ready. And they had a whole week to train again, anyway.

"You might be right," she finally answered her. It felt good, honestly. Not to be tied to work every time. To let loose. "We will start tomorrow. I requested their piano for the week." Letting loose, okay, but she was not as suicidal as to perform completely unprepared either.

Isis' eyes widened. "The one in the hall?"

Shizuma nodded, closing the balcony's door when she stepped inside.

"You're crazy."

The woman looked back at her, thinking about it. "Maybe a little."

-0-

Her fingers flexed and fisted in practiced gymnastics, drawing the attention of the few passersby in the hall. She paid no mind to them though, too focused on her hands. This was part of her very own ritual. Flex the fingers... warm the wrists... stretch the digits. Her fingertips rhythmically drummed on the closed piano fall in a rapid and efficient cadence. _One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three_, like a waltz.

Shizuma took a long breath and straightened her posture, finally deciding to open the fall. The ivory keys shined brightly at her. Right foot carefully hovering on the pedal, she brought her folded hands to her face and blew on them before rubbing the palms together. She was ready.

The notes were harsh, unexpected and loud. They reverberated through her body and sent shivers to the night shifter receptionists. It was technical, not emotional and yet, Shizuma completely let loose, fingers running, stopping and then running again on the keys. From insanely low pitched to irrationally high and stifled notes. Her music filled the hall, turned the heads and confused the faces in its unpredicted, frightening rawness. Who knew classical could be scary?

A small, confidential smirk grazed her lips as her fingers came to a halt, signaling the end of the piece.

Nobody dared to move, blink or breathe.

"If _Danse Infernale_ is your idea warm-up, I hate to see what is going to happen on Friday." Isis' voice sounded behind her, startling Shizuma a little. She looked around at the few people staring at that surrealistic pianist in frozen torpor. "You scared them to hell," she added in a whisper, close to the conductor's ear and sat next to her on the piano bench.

They shared a small laugh. "That was not my purpose," Shizuma replied, eyes twinkling.

"You just love the attention."

"Point taken."

Another laugh and Isis stood up, stepped aside near the piano to start her own warm up. Silence fell between them, one too engrossed into her doings and the other observing with a curious fascination. It was not the first time that Shizuma was witnessing it, yet it felt different this time. Her cheeks ached as she realized that she had been smiling all along while observing the other woman. It made her frown.

"Ready?" Isis casted her a curious look, completely oblivious to the fact that she had been stared at for fifteen minutes straight.

Shizuma cleared her throat, nodded and settled back into position, her heart pounding surprisingly fast in her chest. It was annoying. So was the heat spreading in her body right now. _What is going on? _Her jaw clenched in irritation and she forced herself to calm down, taking short exhales.

"You alright?"

The conductor looked up, meeting genuine concern in Isis' eyes. "Yes." It was a lie, but what could she do anyway? Explain that her body regressed teenage stage, and that her hormones were doing a rumba right now? Nope. She nodded more confidently to reassure the skeptical woman.

"Okay."

Another nod, this time to signal the beginning of their piece. The concertmaster got the hint and straightened her posture, her right arm flexing slightly in anticipation. As they played, Shizuma's worries slowly disappeared, only music remained in her mind. Notes she had taken back when they were in London flashed before her eyes. Indications that they had both agreed on during their working sessions or over dinners. Small tips to ease each other's parts and create a symbiosis to bring the piece to its paroxysm.

If Shizuma was grateful of one thing, it was how her upbringing and general life experience taught her to compartmentalize. She was great at this, freakishly good, in fact. Separating one thing from another. It was, after all, how she had maintained her lifestyle from prying eyes (Nagisa's) for so many years. How she could spend nights of burning desire and lust, bringing random women to release with skillful _savoir-faire_, making them think she _cared_, making them think they were the only one in her mind, in her _heart_, letting them hope that it was not just a fling, not _this_ time and yet the following day at work, leading them with the same practical ways and demanding gaze, like nothing had ever happened.

They did not count. She did not care. They were not special.

Yes, she was very glad that she possessed this skill. Yet, the more time she spent around Isis, the harder it was getting for Shizuma to separate everything. Work. Friends. Teammates. Boss. Attraction. Employee. More than friends? Was there anything more than friendship that did not involve sex? They had grown closer these past few days (months?), sharing knowing looks and secret smiles. What was it? What did it mean? What did Isis want from her? What did _she_ want from the concertmaster?

Why was it suddenly so complicated? So foggy? So full of… of… _Stop._

Shizuma shut her eyes tightly, forcing the thoughts out of her mind. She did not want to think about it now, afraid of the answer and dreading its implications.

* * *

Pupils rolled back behind her eyes in ecstasy, and as much as she would have preferred not to be vocal about it, Shizuma was unable to suppress a quiet moan.

"Oh, my…" her eyes snapped open and widened slightly as a hand came up to cover her mouth. For once in her life, she felt almost ashamed of what was coming out of it. Almost.

"Yep." Isis looked at her, mildly amused, eyes sparkling and fist supporting her chin.

"This is so… that… it's…" the woman blinked a few times, gesturing with one hand and internally chastising herself for her blatant lack of eloquence.

"Yep," she smiled this time, still gazing at Shizuma. "I know." Her eyes drifted to the plate between them. She took a spoonful, savoring as the lukewarm chocolate melted inside and gave her taste buds another orgasm. She kept quiet, though.

"You were right." Shizuma reiterated, glad that her cognitive functions were back to a relatively normal state. "This must be the best fondant I have ever tasted," she licked her lips, nodding to herself before adding, "In my life." That was saying a lot from someone who had traveled as much as she did and had had access to the finest dishes since childhood.

"Told you." Isis smirked, lightly wiping her chin with a napkin. "Wait until you taste the tiramisu, though," the smirk grew wider. "That thing will destroy you."

She would have never imagined in her life, that she would be witnessing that expression of pure awe on Shizuma's face. Eyes looking back at her, all big and shining, with the brightest smile splitting her lips. That, was a sight indeed.

Maybe a bit _too_ good of a sight.

Isis averted her gaze discreetly and redirected her attention to their surroundings. After days of hard working and late practice sessions where they would only get out of their rooms or the hall to eat, the concertmaster had managed to convince Shizuma that they needed air, and _other_ people around them, and no music or they would positively go insane.

Especially her, if she were to be honest about it.

She knew Shizuma and her hard working ways, and most of the time, she did not mind them. The conductor knew her job, and she knew it well. But having all this bubbling attention directed at her and only her instead of the hundred people of the orchestra… that was a bit too much. Isis could handle the bossy side of Shizuma, of course. But for today, she wanted to have a human being facing her, not the professional pianist-slash-cyborg that the woman had turned into since they started practicing again.

So she had suggested they ditch the session today. Shizuma had vehemently disagreed, arguing that it was Wednesday and the concert was on Friday and they had to be ready and a lot of other things that Isis' brain did not care to process. Right. So, no skipping. She then suggested they practice only half a day, and there it was. The flicker of hesitation in the conductor's eyes. _Victory!_ Isis engulfed in it, and let it grow until Shizuma cracked and accepted, at the condition that they work seriously the following days. Isis had given her a dazzling dimple filled smile and everything was settled.

At three pm they were out of the hotel, a small wind dancing around them. Shizuma wanted to do some shopping (it was Paris after all. You just did not go there and kept your wallet intact). Isis had not objected and docilely followed the woman down to the _Champs-Elysées_ and its numerous shops that would make her bank account cry and crawl into a corner. But hey, at least they were not practicing, so Isis was not going to complain about it. And it was not like she was going to buy anything in there; Shizuma was the shopaholic one, not her. They would enter a shop, Shizuma's practiced eyes zeroing in on items while the other quietly observed her strange - and endearing, even if she did not want to admit it – dance, giving her approval or scrunching her face while Shizuma was breezing in and out of the cabins with different clothes on. It was not boring, actually and Isis found herself really enjoying herself.

That, was until she casted a look at the shop girls that were staring at them from a safe distance and had realized how she looked like… like… _like a boyfriend waiting for his girl to show up._ It hit her like a bus. She grimaced at this, suddenly very aware of their judgmental gaze. Then she had laughed out loud before looking back and giving a suggestive wink at them, making the three girls turn away and pretend they had better things to do.

After their (Shizuma's) shopping spree, Isis had dragged her out, not revealing where they were heading to until the women found themselves queuing at the foot of the Eiffel Tower. The conductor had turned white with fear, shooting threatening, then pleading, and finally openly frightened looks at the other who feigned not to understand, answering with bright smiles of her own. Revenge was written all over them even if she had not voiced it. They had reached the second floor, Shizuma shaking like a leaf and crushingly gripping Isis' arm for dear life while the concertmaster had to reassure the curious by standers and security staff that no, she was not going to syncope.

"I hate you," Shizuma had murmured quietly, her voice trembling.

"Aw." Isis had brought her free hand to her heart in mock hurt. "You don't mean it."

"I do," she had insisted while they were coming down. "I could fire you, you know."

The woman had laughed it off. "You won't."

They had stared at each other silently for could have been a minute, an hour or even ten years before Shizuma sighed in defeat. "No. I won't."

And that was as simple as that.

They had wandered in the city some more, until it was dinner time and the concertmaster dragged a reluctant Shizuma in the _Marais_ neighborhood, telling her she knew a place that had the best fondants ever. The place was warm, cozy and kind of flashy in a very obvious way. A very_ rainbow _obvious way. Which Shizuma, to her utter astonishment found that she did not mind much. Isis had found them a table in a quiet corner and here they were now, enjoying the dessert.

The concertmaster smiled back when a tall, almost skeletal guy with an improbable haircut waved enthusiastically at her.

"He knows you?" It was an obvious he did, and yet Shizuma still felt the need to ask. _You, my dear, are stupid_, a voice in her mind scolded.

Isis laughed and shook her head when he mouthed something the other woman failed to catch. Blue yellow eyes returned to her, still sparkling. "I used to wait tables here. He owns the place."

Shizuma's features turned into a surprised expression before she frowned. "How… Why?" Again, the answer to this question was very obvious and the conductor wondered what kind moronic troll had taken control of her mouth.

The woman did not chastise her and just shrugged, taking another bite of the fondant. "Paris is an expensive city. As much as my parents were helping with the conservatory's tuitions fees, I had to find a place." She smiled again at that. It was almost nostalgic. "Pay the bills and all that."

"Of course." Shizuma nodded, feeling even more stupid for asking in the first place.

She never felt ashamed of her wealth. It was not something to be hidden after all, but it did not mean she shoved it at people's face either. She was very aware of money's value, her father had made sure of it. Although, living among equally wealthy people on Astrae Hill had made her forget that there was a real world outside of that sacred bubble. Truthfully, she did not need to work either. She just _wanted_ to and having the recognition of her peers because of her talent was far more rewarding than the number of zeros on her paycheck. But she never had to _work _to pay her studies, and now that she was thinking about it, the woman was not sure that she would have managed to balance both of them equally, given how of a stressful period it had been back then.

"What?" Isis tilted her head, an eyebrow rising quizzically.

Shizuma shook her head in dismay. "It's just that…" a small smile crept on her face. "It was brave of you. Very."

The woman frowned, eyes narrowing as she tried to understand what was being discussed. A fit of laughter erupted from her, out of the blue before she cleared her throat and blew a little bit. "Shizuma, I didn't tell you I was raised in an orphanage," she chuckled again. "It's nothing to brag about. Everybody does that," the conductor's brows scrunched at the statement. "Besides," her gaze returned to the restaurant again, twinkling. "It's a cool place."

"I agree," her eyes drifted to her watch, discreetly checking the time. "We are late."

"What for?" Isis observed as Shizuma got up, taking her shop bags and putting her light vest on.

"An appointment," she answered.

"At ten o'clock?" The concertmaster pointed, disbelieving her completely but still standing and following suit. What kind of appointment could you take at ten pm?

Shizuma gave her one of those mysterious smiles she loved so much and a wink. "Yes, at ten o'clock."

* * *

Ten o'clock or not, the city was still pulsing with life. They said New York was the city that never slept. Obviously, they had never been to Paris. For sure, it did not have the fierce savageness and wild atmosphere as the other, or its imposing buildings and endless roads. Paris was posh, _refined _some would correct. So yes, it never slept, indeed. In its own subtly haughty and Parisian way.

And that's exactly what Shizuma loved about it.

And that's exactly what Isis hated about it.

"Where are we going?" She asked again for the umpteenth time and like the other times she received no answer, only a quick glance and a mischievous smirk that she wanted to wipe off Shizuma's face.

"Patience is mother of safety."

An exasperated sigh came out of her mouth. "What does that even have to do with my question?"

"Nothing. It just means that I won't answer you."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

The car fell silent again, Isis was looking out of the window, pouting. Shizuma was driving, trying her hardest not to laugh at her. Her grip tightened on the wheel and she bit on her tongue, trying to suppress the chuckles.

"Go on, laugh. I know you want to," the concertmaster was still looking the other way, another sigh coming out of her mouth when Shizuma finally gave in but it was quickly replaced by a smile.

The ride took another half an hour as Shizuma dutifully followed the GPS' indications until they found themselves at the end of the city. The car came to a halt in front of an imposing old looking building.

"Here we are," she smiled at the other woman, unbuckling the seatbelt.

"Where is _here_, exactly?" Isis could not help but ask one more time, even if she knew it was in vain. And as expected, the conductor's only answer was: _patience_.

Shizuma led them to the door, eyes shining with unbridled excitement. She knocked twice, let a beat, knocked three times, another beat and knocked one time followed by two others.

"Okay, now that's creepy," the other woman blurted out. "Was that a secret code or something?"

Shizuma turned to her with a smirk. "She has always had a thing for mystery."

Like _that _was going to help her figure out what the hell was going on. Isis' brow furrowed in confusion and she opened her mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by the sound of the tick door opening.

A short woman in her fifties holding a candle lamp greeted them with a smile. "_Please, come in._"

"_Thank you,_" they both answered as they entered.

The ceiling hall was high, as would be expected from any Parisian building that had passed a century, the contours of paintings shined and danced, somewhat threateningly under the only source of light as the elderly woman walked through the dark corridors. The overall atmosphere was resolutely unsettling for Isis as she kept scanning her surroundings. A quick glance on her right, to Shizuma, informed that the conductor was still smiling like a kid, not the least bit bothered. _What is wrong with this woman?_

They stopped at another door, Light was coming out of the slot under it. White blinding light. Even more blinding when the door growled and creaked tiredly as the old woman turned the knob. Isis instinctively brought a hand to her eyes, sheltering them.

A labyrinth of hangers and half-dressed dummies greeted her.

They kept walking, sliding through the sea of cloths and concepts until they reached a clear area with an island table in the middle.

Chikaru was crouched over it, brows furrowed in deep concentration and pen angrily shifting on paper.

Isis gasped.

Shizuma's smile got wider

The shifting slowed to a mere stroke. The woman lifted her head, hazel eyes shining with mischief as they drifted from her friend to the stranger accompanying her. "I was beginning to think that you were never going to show up, Shizuma."

A light chuckle erupted from the conductor. She walked briskly to the other, taking her in a warm embrace. "There goes my surprise visit." It was Chikaru's turn to laugh. "I hate how perceptive you are, sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

Shizuma shook her head in disbelief. She pulled out, motioning towards the third woman (the one that had greeted them at the door had done a great job at mysteriously disappearing). "Chikaru, Isis. Isis, Chikaru."

A small pause followed, both women looking at each other. Isis quickly got the hint and grinned knowingly. "My real name, yes. Don't ask"

Chikaru nodded, offering her a bright smile and a warm shake. "A pleasure."

Quick pleasantries were exchanged between the former schoolmates, Isis quietly observing the workshop on her own. She had never seen a stylist at work before, let alone someone as renowned as Chikaru _freaking_ Minamoto. It startled her how many people Shizuma knew, not just acquaintances, but genuine relationships. Musicians were usually quite isolated, spending their time only with people from the profession. Some out of presumptuousness, not willing to mingle with the common people, but most of them had not chosen it. This self-hermitage was imposed to them because they just did not know how to _turn off,_ to think out of music. Isis herself was a proof of this; aside from Ann and her colleagues at the beauty salon (relatives did not count. Not really), she did not have friends outside of this closed circle.

Suddenly she felt oddly pathetic. _Truth is harsh…_

"I heard about your little… stunt of last time…" Isis walked back to the middle of the room where the two other women were still conversing. "Yaya sounded very happy. I'm glad you did not lose all of your… _spontaneity._"

Shizuma laughed quietly, following the concertmaster with her gaze. "I can't take all the merits for this," she smiled, nodding towards Isis, "It was not my idea to begin with."

Chikaru tilted her head, her eyes twinkling again with mischief. "Really?" Shizuma acquiesced. _And you actually listened to her and went with it…_ she added in her mind. Yaya had told her about _that_ too. "Interesting," she brushed off the conductor's confused face and turned her attention towards Isis. "You like it?"

The woman startled, caught like a deer while she was stroking the fabric of a leather vest and marveling at the intriguing patterns. She jerked her hand away, feeling the heat creeping on her cheeks. "No… I mean yes, but n-no." Feeling suddenly frustrated and unable to get her point across, she took a breath. "What I meant is…" _exhale and inhale_, "It's beautiful." _There, wasn't so hard now, was it?_

"Take it." It almost felt like a command.

"What? _No_. No, no I don't want t—"

"I insist," Chikaru walked towards her and grabbed the vest. Her gaze flickered from the piece of clothing to the woman in front of her with a practiced eye. She laid the vest on Isis' front and hummed silently. "Try it on."

This time it was a command and there was no saying no to her. Isis blinked in incredulity, casting a look to Shizuma who had been observing them all along, quietly seated on a stool. She nodded. _Do it. _The concertmaster complied.

Removing her own coat, she let Chikaru manipulate her limbs and put the vest on her. She took a step back, squinting her eyes and muttering under her breath. "Shizuma, I need the measure tape on the table, please."

Fifteen minutes later, and without even realizing how, Isis found herself in underwear before a kneeling Chikaru. "You could model, you know?" The stylist pointed out, not removing her eyes from Isis' legs that, although were not as endlessly long as Shizuma's, were still impressive. She heard a snort.

"No thank you."

Chikaru had suddenly decided to play doll with Isis. The concertmaster tried to argue her way out of it but it was no use and after a quick glance to Shizuma who was starting to enjoy this turn of events a bit too much for her liking, she asked the stylist to send the woman away. Shizuma had reluctantly agreed but not after stating the unfairness of it, reminding Isis that she had already seen her in a lesser state of clothes and doing the same with the concertmaster would only make them even.

Chikaru wrapped the thin tape around Isis' waist and muttered to herself, smiling.

"What dress?" The voice above her asked, efficiently startling the stylist.

"Excuse me?" She looked up, still kneeling on the floor.

"You said you won't have to retake the dress much," The woman explained. "What dress?"

If anyone on Astrae Hill was told that their beloved Chikaru would be caught off guard one day, they would not have believed it. And they would be right. Except this time. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"You… you heard me?" It wasn't like she had said it aloud. Quite the opposite, to be honest. The only answer she got was a shrug and a sheepish smile. Chikaru responded with one of her own. "Shizuma contacted me about a month ago. She wanted me to make dresses for the both of you."

Isis looked down at her with a dumbfounded expression. "Wow, that's… um, thanks."

"You are very welcome." Chikaru laughed. "I've missed designing dresses for her, it's been ages since she last requested one," the excitement was unmistakable from her tone, it made the other smile for a bit before her face turned serious again.

"Wait, you said you didn't have to retake the dress much. It means you got my measurements…" Chikaru's eyes returned to the tape wrapped around the concertmaster's waist, she bit her lower lip. "How did you get them?"

_Uh oh…_

She cleared her throat and chuckled uncomfortably. "About that… maybe you should ask Shizuma."

-0-

Chikaru was not kidding when she said she did not have to retake the dress much. An hour later, Isis was primed in her brand new, _designer_ dress. A cream colored strapless bustier that was nicely contrasting with her recently sun kissed skin. She turned around herself, a childish smile adoring her features when her movements made the end of the dress flow.

The stylist looked at her with a winning grin. "This is absolutely superb. You are gorgeous in this!" She gave herself a silent rouse of applause and a pat on the back. _A job well done indeed._

"Thanks!" Isis answered enthusiastically as Chikaru smiled again left her alone. She felt oddly lighthearted in this outfit. Like everything was suddenly becoming very real.

Maybe a bit too real.

Her very first concert without an orchestra. _Oh, my God, what did I do?_ She suddenly froze. _I agreed to play with Shizuma. Alone. What the hell was I thinking?_ Why didn't the implications hit her earlier? _What am I going to do? It's going to be awful. I'm going to screw it up. And it's Shizuma. And she's going to be humiliated. And she's going to hate me for it. Oh, my God. I'm going to screw it up._

The concertmaster was so lost in her mental breakdown that she did not notice Shizuma heading her way. She masterfully failed to catch her jaw as it fell to the floor at the sight of Isis' dress. Chikaru's handiwork had done magnificently in enhancing the woman's curves but the conductor's gaze was glued to her naked shoulders. Where her throat met the shoulder. Where she was longing to plant her teeth and swipe her tongue…

Shizuma's train of – R rated – thoughts was suddenly broke when she lifted her gaze and noticed the absolutely livid expression on Isis' face. Her mouth opened, ready to apologize, somehow thinking that the woman had developed the ability to read minds or that her lubricious gaze had given her away, when she was cut off,

"I—I can't do this, I'm sorry."

The concertmaster did not meet Shizuma's eyes and disappeared in a blur of cream, leaving a stupefied conductor behind.

_What just happened?_

* * *

**Yeeesh. Okay this is **_**not**_** the way I intended this chapter to go. This last scene just kind of wrote itself. Blame the late hour? Or Billy Ocean's Caribbean Queen that I've been listening to non-stop for the last three days because I forgot my iPod at home (iFail) and I'm borrowing my mom's. She's got terrific tastes. Sometimes.**

**As I said up there, I didn't know when I was going to be able to finish this chapter (see how short it is! Ha.) and I didn't want to leave you hanging for another couple of months. Let's say this is a preview, with a very, very nasty and unplanned cliffhanger. But hey! You got Chikaru! **

**The chapter will be sent to Wicked White Queen, Majesty of awesome when I get some sleep. Will upload the revised version when I get it.**

**If you've got comments or questions, don't hesitate to review.**

**Cheers. **

**Or not.**

_**Hazel.**_


End file.
